Into The Deep
by wondertross
Summary: Dean and Sam head to Colorado to investigate some msyterious disappearances, and a creature reported to fly...Plan to beat up on the boys a bit grins evilly
1. Chapter 1

Title:

Author's Note: This is my first Supernatural fic, so please be kind. I love shows and stuff like this, so I hope I do it justice. The guys head to the Colorado high country to investigate some mysterious disappearances, but they're not the only ones after the thing in the mountains. Yep, there's a girl, cuz come on, there's always a girl.

Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine, sad revelation though that is. Parker is mine, and all the characters you haven't seen in the show.

_In the high country outside Durango…_

"Make sure you check that landing before you drop off your line!" Parker Quinn, called down into the inky black abyss. The light from her headlamp illuminated a few feet down the rock face, but no more. She was hooked into all her climbing gear, her rope coiled neatly at her feet, waiting for her two companions to finish their descent.

Parker and her sister had been spelunking with their father since they were little kids. When Parker had graduated college two years back, with no real desire to join the corporate world, she got a job being a spelunking guide in the Colorado back country. She'd never looked back. The only downside to the job was that Parker rarely got to see her sister and family, so when Angie had asked Parker to give her and her boyfriend a guided tour on their summer vacation, Parker had jumped at the chance.

Her sister's voice floated up to her, and Parker had to grin at the disdain dripping from it. "I _know_ Parker. It's not like this is some cave we've never been in before. Spelunking here is like…" she trailed off, trying to think of an appropriate comparison. Unfortunately, dangling from a rope deep in the bowels of a Colorado cavern, sarcastic comebacks seemed to escape her. "It's familiar is all I'm sayin'!" She finally yelled.

"And if we weren't?" Parker questioned, slightly teasing the younger girl. "Look before you leap Angie! It's still a good rule!"

"And while you two _girls _were bickering," came a third voice, low and distinctively male, "I made it down here first."

Parker crouched down on one knee, peering cautiously over the edge, looking for the familiar bob of a headlamp on the ground. It didn't matter how often she explored these caves, she knew how quickly things could go wrong. With a slight roll of her eyes she returned, "I'm not sure I'd always be bragging about being quick on the draw there Aiden, if you know what I mean."

"Parker!" Angie sounded horrified. Parker just laughed, a warm, rich sound that lit her eyes. Then she tied off her line, and hooked herself into her belay, reaching around to check her hip for her cams, more out of habit than anything else. The caves by Bear Rock weren't really all that challenging, but they were a pain to get to, necessitating a day and a half long hike from the nearest logging road. In all probability she probably would have no need for her set of cams, or the extra length of rope draped across her shoulder.

"It's okay sweetie," Aiden's voice was quieter now, though still loud enough to Parker to hear. "As long as you love me I don't care what she says."

Parker could picture Angie's face, smiling, having eyes only for the man in front of her. At the top of the cliff face, Parker stuck her index finger in her mouth and pretended to gag. Angie and Aiden, a set of names that together, were almost as sickeningly cute as the couple themselves. Still, Parker had to admit that Aiden was a far sight better than the last few guys she'd brought home.

The most notable of the previous losers had been Nick, tattooed, way too pierced 26 year old was firmly stuck back in the glory days of 80's mullet rock. Angie had brought him for Christmas dinner, presumably to shock and horrify their parents, which she had done successfully. Luckily the relationship hadn't lasted any longer than Christmas, mostly due to the fact that Nick had started hitting on Parker as soon as she walked in the door. When his hand had started creeping up her thigh at dinner Parker's notoriously thin patience had evaporated all together and Nick had ended up with green bean casserole hanging off his eyebrow hoop.

No, Aiden seemed like a decent enough guy, entirely too Joe Blow All American for Parker's taste, but hopelessly devoted to Angie. That in and of itself made Aiden welcome on their trip, but a small part of Parker wished it could be just her and Angie. It had been a long time since she'd gotten to spend time with her little sister on her own. Parker scooted backward, leaning against her line till her heels dropped over the edge of the cavern cliff. "Angie, you down?" She waited for an answer, her belay locked. "Be sure to tie off your ropes….Angie?"

"I'm down Parker but….I thought I saw….it couldn't be." Parker shook her head wryly. They'd been playing games in the caves since they were little, always trying to scare the other. She started her descent, keeping her feet firmly planted on the sweating rock face, leaning back into her harness and letting gravity do the work.

"What is it?" she called, looking quickly back over her shoulder. She'd play into Angie's game, for now.

"I thought I saw something moving."

"Right Angie. What do you think lives down here, a bear with wings?"

"Parker I'm not kidding!" she thought Angie sounded a little scared then, panic creeping into the edges of her voice. Parker felt her heart start to thump a little harder in her chest. Angie wasn't joking around; her kid sister had never been that good an actress. She let the rope slide through her fingers a little faster. She looked back over her shoulder, not paying the wall any mind, in exactly the way she always chastised others not to do. But Parker couldn't help it, she wanted to see her sister. The light from her headlamp still didn't illuminate the bottom. The wall they had been repelling plummeted nearly a hundred feet into the cavern before leveling off again. She wasn't even halfway down.

Angie and Aiden weren't paying attention to Parker at all anymore. But Parker could still hear them. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Aiden don't…stop. Aiden would you not please? Parker!" There was a loud scrape, and a whoosh, like a gust of air. Then Aiden screamed, a bone chilling, blood curdling cry that was cut abruptly short. Footfalls echoed up off the walls and Parker knew Angie was running. "Get away, get away! Parker!" she was yelling through tears. Parker heard a thud, then nothing.

"Angie!" Parker was panicking now, full fledged and desperate. Her throat was nearly closed off. She was practically falling now, the rope sliding through her calloused hands fast enough to burn.

A sudden updraft hit her, and it reeked of rotting and decay. She could see it now, a small light lying motionless on the floor of the cavern. Another draft hit her, this one from slightly to her left. Her panic addled mind fought for control. _The wind, it's not right. It couldn't come from the…_Parker looked up.

The headlamp only illuminated it for a moment. Parker didn't know if it was the red eyes she saw, or the sight of Aiden's lifeless, limp body hurtling down at her, but in that moment she let go of her line. Aiden hurtled past her, brushing her, and the rope whipped furiously through and out of her belay. And then she was really falling, plunging downward. It was almost a relief when she hit the ground and everything went dark.

--

_Six days later…_

Dean Winchester stared grumpily out the Impala's front windshield. Sam, his younger brother, sat beside him in the passenger seat, his lanky frame seeming awkwardly compressed in the car like always. He had their laptop open, their father's journal on the seat next to his thigh and was typing furiously. Ahead of them, the Denver skyline rose up, as they chased the sun westward with the receding shadow of night.

"Why are we here again?" Dean grumbled. "Report made it sound like a run of the mill accident. Few drunk college kids decided to go out where they didn't belong, and good ole Mother Nature called them on it."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sure, Dean doubted the validity of the find. Even Sam had to admit it was a bit of a stretch, but he hadn't told Dean about the part that convinced him yet. No, Dean was just annoyed that Sam had made the find and the connection, when he himself had read over the same paper without seeing anything. The eldest Winchester brother didn't like losing, especially to Sam, even when they weren't actually competing.

"Maybe," he said, but not meaning it at all. "But you remember what the paper said right, two kids are missing, but one got out."

"Sure," Dean nodded, letting Sam string him along. He didn't mind it when Sam did this really, asking him questions pre-designed to get him to reach the same conclusion as he did. He was getting pretty good at it actually, and Dean figured he'd let the kid practice. "Three kids went out for some climbing and spelunking in the back country. Four days after they went in, one came back out. A girl…Parker…something, supposed to be a guide. Paper said she was drunk off her ass. She probably got her sister and her boyfriend killed."

"Parker Quinn," Sam affirmed. "And yes, paper said she was drunk and rambling, but the police report says different. Blood alcohol came back clean. The police report said she was freaked, going on and on about a 'thing' that had taken her sister." Dean shrugged. So she was hysterical, it wasn't exactly abnormal.

The Impala passed an exit sign on highway I-25. Dean sat up a little straighter as the morning traffic thickened. "So where we headed Sammy?"

Sam closed the laptop. "Exit onto the off ramp for highway 36 when the road splits 20 miles or so up. From there," he cast a sideways glance at his brother, wanting to gauge Dean's reaction. "From there we're headed into the foothills, to where Parker Quinn has been staying since she got out."

"And where's that?" Dean asked, snickering. "The Hilton? You'd think if she were all that concerned about her sister she'd be up there looking for her."

"Yeah well, that's a little hard to do when you've been committed for observation to state mental ward." That got the reaction Sam had been hoping for. Dean's hands tightened on the wheel and his eyes widened just a little. "Apparently Parker wouldn't calm down. She kept insisting that whatever had taken her sister had blood red eyes….and wings."

--

Chapter 1

Hope you like it. Please review, I always love to get input.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Chapter 2

Author's Note: Here we go….

Disclaimer: Still applies

The Impala pulled into the parking lot of Somerset House by midmorning. Dean and Sam got out of the car, impressed with what they saw. Somerset House was a big step up from most state institutions. The three story brick, colonial style house was nestled in the foothills of the Mountains, surrounded on all sides by lush pine forest. Just outside, people knelt in lush gardens, tending to flowers and trimming bushes.

In fact, the only real thing about the place that screamed 'nut house' to Dean was the eight foot high perimeter wall topped with rolls of barbed wire. That and, he admitted to himself, the large wrought iron gates that required a special code from inside the compound to enter, along with the armed man that sat in the guard station. Dean was well aware that the mass majority of people would consider him worthy of being locked up in such a place. It was a sobering thought.

Sam on the other hand, was trying to reconcile with the fact that the last time he'd been in a place like this he'd ended up possessed by the spirit of a long dead, psychopath doctor. He'd tried to kill Dean that night; it wasn't a memory he liked reliving.

The two brothers passed through the front entrance, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until Dean sighted a perky blonde headed girl in an antiquated white nurse's uniform acting as receptionist that the elder Winchester brightened. "Hi there," she greeted them cheerily, "how may I help you?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer. He wanted to tell Andrea, his eyes narrowed as he read her name tag, that she could help him any way she liked, especially if she felt up to playing doctor for a while. A discreet elbow and Sam clearing his throat stopped him.

Sam ignored the annoyed glare coming from Dean. "Hello. Yes, actually you can help us. We're Sam Rodin and Dean Sallsbrook from the Boulder Camera newspaper." Sam flashed the ID badges he had made up a couple towns back. "We're here to interview Parker Quinn about her sister's disappearance."

Andrea didn't bat an eyelash, appreciative blue eyes never leaving Sam. "Sure," she said. Andrea smiled, probably thinking it was coy, though really was anything but. Sam felt a flush begin to rise up his neck. Dean's expression got just that much darker. "Let me just ring up an attending and Dr. McAlister."

It only took a few minutes for the Dr. to arrive. Dr. McAlister was a short woman with graying red hair and a pale complexion. Pale blue eyes were enlarged behind the thick lenses of her glasses, a silver chord draped around her neck. She held a clipboard in her right hand. A tall, husky blonde man trailed in her wake. "Hello," she held out her hand, "I'm Dr. McAlister. You must be the reporters." Introductions were made all around, including Luke, the hulking attendant obviously used as muscle should a patient get too unruly. "Please put all loose belongings in this basket," she leaned over the desk and pulled out a plastic container. "All keys, wallets, watches…"

Dean and Sam followed Dr. McAlister up three flights of stairs to the top floor. "Ms. Quinn has not been officially admitted to my care yet," McAlister informed them as they walked. "She is here for a week of observation due to a request by the D.A., admittance pending my final report."

"And what will that report say?" Dean questioned.

McAlister looked at him sharply. "I'm not permitted to discuss the specifics of any patient's care. It would breach confidentiality."

"Yeah," Dean shot her a dazzling smile. "But I mean, off the record, is there any truth to what this Parker chic is sayin'?"

Dr. McAlister stopped just outside a locked white door. "Off the record?" Dean nodded. "Off the record Ms. Quinn is suffering from induced paranoid delusional psychosis brought about by a traumatic incident."

"And in plain English that would mean?" Sam asked.

The doctor had her hand on the door handle, a key card hovering above an electronic lock. She deadpanned, "girl's crazier than a loon." Then she swiped the keycard, opened the door and led them inside.

Neither Sam nor Dean knew going in exactly what they expected to see. Parker Quinn sat quietly behind a long table, her feet propped up, leaning back in her chair. Thick, long dark hair fell in front of her face, obscuring it. She had her arms crossed over her chest. "Parker," Dr. McAlister drummed her knuckles on the table top, "feet down please."

After a long moment of silence the girl complied, sliding her feet off the table, her chair rocking forward to sit square on all four legs. "Sure doc, whatever you say." From what the brother's could see of her beneath the unflattering hospital pants and shirt, Parker was an athlete. She had a small, hard waist and lean, wide shoulders.

"These young men are from the Boulder Daily Camera. They're here to interview you about last week. Do you remember last week Parker?" McAlister spoke to her as is speaking to a child, and not a bright child at that.

At that Parker looked up sharply, her chin jutting out defiantly. "You think I'd forget?" she queried slowly, each word dripping with contempt. She stood abruptly, slamming bandaged hands on the table. Her hair fell back then, and for the first time Dean and Sam got a good look at her face. She might have been pretty, but for the ugly expression she bore, and the injuries. She had a square face with a strong, stubborn chin, which from cheekbone to forehead on the right side was a nasty bruise, mottled colors ranging from yellow to a deep purple. She had full red lips, though the top one had been badly split. Dark, forest green eyes raged with emotion. Her skin was smooth and tanned, turned slightly olive by the sun. Taut muscles bulged in her forearms, testament to the fact she was a climber.

"Calm down Parker," McAlister held up her hands. Her voice never wavered from its even monotone. "Are you up to doing this today, or should I send these gentlemen away till you've collected yourself?"

"No," she sneered, her eyes snaking over the brother's, "I'm collected." She sat heavily in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well all right then. Parker, these are Dean Sallsbrook and Sam Rodin from the Daily Camera." Parker shot the brothers a quick glance, her eyes narrowing slightly as she appraised them. Sam shifted uncomfortably. The doctor wagged a finger at the younger woman. "I want no trouble from you, do you understand me?"

Parker's lips thinned and her head rolled loosely to the side. She offered the doctor a sloppy, two fingered salute which segued into flipping McAlister off. Then she smiled, "Don't worry, I'll behave like a good little psychopath."

Dean bit back a grin. "If it's all right with you Doctor, we'd like to speak with Ms. Quinn in private. We're looking for an exclusive, and she might be more comfortable not being watched. Parker nodded enthusiastically from her spot behind the table, sitting up a little straighter. McAlister looked uneasy. "You can station your attendant right outside if there's any trouble," Dean said reassuringly. "Please, as a personal favor?"

The doctor flushed. It had been many many years since anyone had looked at her the way the young reporter was looking at her then. She pushed her glasses back on her nose, then relented. "All right, but just for ten minutes. The patient is easily upset right now, you have to understand."

"Of course," Dean was nodding, already steering the doctor and Luke out of the room. Sam slid into the seat across from Parker. Dean shut the door and came back to stand beside his brother. "So, what's the deal with this big bad you say you saw?"

For the first time since entering the room Parker's face shifted to something other than hostile. Her eyes widened a little. "Are you serious? You're not just here to write that I went berserk and killed them like everyone else?"

"Well," Sam leaned farther across the table, "did you?" The angry glare returned.

Hey," Dean shrugged, "it is the obvious question to ask."

She was regarding the brother's suspiciously now. "No," she said seriously, lifting her fingers to her split lip. "I didn't kill them. I wouldn't hurt anyone."

"That's not what your arrest record says. You were arrested for assault 5 years ago."

Parker started. "How do you know that?"

"It's in your police file," Sam told her. "We've got connections in the department." _Yeah,_ Dean thought, _a good wireless internet connection and enough time and skill to hack the police database._

"Did it also tell you that the bastard I beat up raped one of my best friends, or that he tried to rape me?" The brother's exchanged a horrified look. "But the police couldn't make the charge stick." A slow smile slid over her features. "They couldn't make the assault charge stick either. Kathy and a few other girls in my dorm gave me a really tight alibi. And before you ask, yeah, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I just wish I'd had a shotgun and not a baseball bat. But that's really neither here no there is it? You want to know what happened down in that cave or not?"

Dean grinned. Crazy or not, the girl had attitude. "Definitely yes. If it wasn't you that killed that kid, who was it?"

"Not who," she shook her head grimly, "not as far as I could tell. What. It was dark, and my headlamp only illuminated it for a second but…" her eyes drifted away from the boys. Sam watched out of the corner of his eye as her fingers began to tremble. "It had red eyes, and it smelled…rotten, decayed. I smelled it, when the wind blew, right before Aiden…" her eyes filled with tears.

"He fell." Parker nodded, swiping angrily at her tears. "Bu you were climbing," Sam pressed. "And Aiden was new to it right? What's to say he didn't just fall? Accidents happen."

"No, they don't. Not to me, and not like this." She sniffed once more before looking Sam in the eyes again. "I've been doin this a lot of years, and I've never had a serious accident with anyone I've climbed with. Besides, Aiden was above me, and that's just not possible. That wall was a hundred feet down. Angie and Aiden went down before me. I was watching their top ropes. They were both off belay _before_ I started repelling. And that's when everything started goin to hell."

Parker was staring down at her bandaged hands, gnawing on her lower lip. "What happened then?" Dean's asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

"They…they started screaming." Her voice caught. She picked at the bandaged on her hands. "And then Aiden stopped, and it was just Angie, and she was running. And then she wasn't. Next thing I knew, I heard something and there was this breeze. That's when I saw it, those eyes and a face…." She shuddered, "a face I can't describe. Then Aiden fell past me. I let go of my anchor line and fell the last twenty feet. When I came to, everything was dark. I fished around in my pack for my penlight. Aiden was right next to me. His neck was broken and he was just starin at me. Looked like a wild animal got at him. Angie was gone. I looked for her for hours, but she was just gone."

"I came back to get help," she chuckled mirthlessly, "and instead I get arrested and locked in here. I don't know what I did in a past life man, but I'm like some kinda karmic leper."

"Know what you mean," Sam agreed. He stood, the legs of his chair scraping on the linoleum. He held out his hand, which she shook. "Look, thanks for talking to us. We'll do what we can to investigate whatever it is that killed Aiden and your sister." Sam turned to leave. Dean too, shook her hand, and when the surprise registered on her face he just winked. Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. They'd been talking for seven minutes. McAlister had given them ten. She still had time.

"Angie's not dead." Both Winchester brothers stopped dead in their tracks.

"You know that?" Dean's brow furrowed.

"She's my sister. I know. Wouldn't you?"

Hazel green eyes flicked over to Sam. "Good point. You're not bad, you know that?" the elder Winchester begrudgingly admitted. "You got that whole, bitchy defiant act down pat."

"It's not an act."

Dean shrugged, not particularly interested in picking an argument. "Well whatever, you're still a pretty good actress."

"Yeah," she grinned, "but not as good as you two." She winked at them. "Now go on, before time runs out." Sam shot her a bewildered glance. Time for what? "And if you were serious about that favor, would you mind distracting that ape Luke for a minute or two?"

"Why?" Sam asked cautiously. "What are you gonna do?" It bothered him that Dean was grinning like a cat, already standing by the door.

Parker hefted the chair she'd been sitting on. She looked between the window and the brothers. "Escape," she explained seriously. "So I can look for my sister like I should have been doin all along. Bye now." She shooed him away with one hand.

Dean reached over and dragged a still confused looking Sam out the door by the shirtsleeve. Luckily, there was no need to distract Luke. Andrea, the tiny, blonde receptionist, looked to have his attentions thoroughly under control farther down the hall. "Dean?"

"Yeah Sammy?"

"We're on the third floor."

"Yep," the twinkle in Dean's eyes got brighter. His lips parted in a devilish smile the moment he heard the sound of shattering glass. Luke brushed past his shoulder as he darted for his abandoned station. Andrea was already sprinting in the direction of the nearest phone, presumably to call an alert to the staff. Dean and Sam had just hit the second floor when the alarms went off.

McAlister and the rest of the staff of Somerset House spent the next hour searching the grounds for Parker Quinn. All the patients had been wrangled up and delivered back to their locked, windowless rooms. The good doctor had even detained Dean and Sam, not wanting to risk Parker escaping when the gates opened to let them out. The brothers waited impatiently in the visiting room, Dean flipping through TV stations in his boredom.

When, after an hour all the search had turned up was a scrap of fabric hanging from a section of barbed wire fence, the Winchesters were permitted to leave. McAlister showed them to the door, face pale and obviously flustered. "This has never happened here before," she stammered nervously, obviously hoping to dissuade the 'reporters' from casting a bad light on her facility. "Somerset House is a secure institution. I just can't believe it. Our perimeter walls are eight feet high, there's no way…"

Sam, ever the pragmatist, pointed out the flaw in her line of thinking. "Parker Quinn is a lifelong climber and a professional spelunking guide. She managed to scale down a three story building in the time it took you to sound your alarms. I don't think an eight foot fence is that far a stretch." If looks could kill, Sam would have been a goner.

McAlister returned their belongings, unceremoniously dumping them on the counter. "Your vehicle will be inspected before you are permitted to leave the grounds," she sniffed. Then she turned on her heel and marched off.

Dean stuffed his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. Then he clapped Sam soundly across the shoulder. "Way to charm 'em Sammy." Sam groaned a little. "Come on Cassenova, time to get the hell outta Dodge."

Dean unlocked the Impala and soon they were rolling down the driveway. The armed guard came out of his station and motioned for them to stop. "I am required to check your vehicle sir." Dean nodded impatiently. The guard peered into the car's interior, carefully scrutinizing the back seat. Then he got down on his knees to check the undercarriage. "Now pop the trunk please sir," the guard said as he rose. Sam's tongue flicked out over his lips. There was no way to explain the vast assortment of weapons and other paraphernalia the had in their possession.

"Look man, there's no trunk release in this car," Dean said gruffly. "You have to have the key, and the keys have been inside the house with me this whole time. Just let us go, we're late for our deadline." The guard thought about it for a moment, then nodded and stepped aside, radioing back to the house for the gate to open. The Impala rolled through onto the street.

"You think she was telling the truth?" Sam asked a few minutes later.

Dean shrugged. "I think if you did kill someone, coming up with a creature of the week story makes for a piss poor alibi. You'd have to be either crazy, or stupid. Quinn strike you as either one?"

Sam ran a hand over his mouth. "No, she didn't. But she didn't exactly give us a great description to go on either." It was then Sam noticed that Dean was pulling the Impala onto the side of the road. "What are you doing?" Dean didn't answer. He killed the engine, hopped out, Sam at his heels, and headed for the back of the car. "Dean?"

"It's a surprise," the elder Winchester said blandly.

Dean popped the trunk. Sam flew backwards, caught off guard as a dark haired figure leapt out of the car. Parker, wide and wild eyed, sprinted a few yards away from the car and whirled. She held a long bladed Bowie knife out in front of her, waving it menacingly at the brothers. She swiped her hair out of her eyes, her gaze darting between the brothers and the Impala's trunk where she'd spent the last hour and a half nestled between a lethal looking sawed off shot gun, and a duffel bag full of Holy water and wooden spikes. "All right," she said breathlessly, "who the hell are you freaks?"

Chapter 2

Please review, please?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

A/N: Glad people seem to be enjoying this.

Disclaimer: Parker is still mine, the boys, sadly, are not.

"Hey, hey!" Dean yelled, holding his hands up defensively. Beside him Sam did the same, and they both took a couple steps back, closer to the relative safety of the Impala. "Watch where you're swingin' that thing will ya? You're gonna get somebody hurt!"

"I'm gonna hurt someone?" Parker repeated, incredulous. "Says the man with the guns and knives and…and well I don't know what the rest of it is, but it looks deadly!" She threw up her free hand. Her knuckles were bloodless and white, gripping the Bowie knife. "God, and they had _me_ locked up in the mental ward."

"Yeah, and I'm starting to think they had good reason," Sam said. "How'd you get into our trunk anyway?"

"He," she jabbed the knife in Dean's direction, "slipped me a key." Sam shot Dean an amazed, mildly annoyed look. Dean just shrugged. Parker growled. "You know I should have known this was too good to be true. I knew, I knew you two weren't reporters for the Camera right off, but I didn't think murderous psycho either."

"How'd you know we weren't reporters?" Sam asked her. The question drew her gaze, and Dean began to move very slowly away from the car.

"It's Boulder, haven for hippies and tree huggers alike. You two really don't seem the type. Besides, the Camera already ran a story about what happened, most Boulderites don't care two shits what goes on up here, so I kinda doubted they were running a second piece. No, people from Boulder tend to be far more consumed with the latest prairie dog crisis. The car sealed it. You want authenticity, go for a hybrid, not a classic, 60's, gas guzzling muscle car. So who are you, really?" The words came out in a single breath,

Sam was still eyeing the knife nervously. "And you decided to help her escape….why?"

"How would you feel, if someone locked you up, cuz you told them the truth about what we see every day?" Dean scowled, "besides, seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Oh yeah, brilliant."

"Yeah well, thanks for helping me get out of there, but I think I'll be parting ways with you now." Parker started backing up slowly, keeping a careful eye on the brothers. The road's gravel shoulder ended in a slight embankment, which she would have to climb before slipping away into the cover of the forest.

"You won't be able to get away from the cops on your own," Dean told her. Sam moved away from the Impala in the opposite direction. "By now Somerset House has called the cops, maybe state patrol. They'll have a manhunt for you. They'll find you too, if you leave now, and I gotta say, running makes you look guilty as sin. But we can help you. We can help you get away, and help you get your sister back."

Dean could see indecision cross Parker's face. She stopped moving. "Who are you?"

Dean glanced over at Sam, who gave a slight nod. It was time to lay the cards on the table. "That thing you saw in the cave, we hunt it and things like it. We hunt all the dark things that scared you as a kid, but don't anymore because you know they're not real. Except they are. Ghosts, demons, werewolves, it's all real."

Parker's eyes went wide. Then she started to laugh. "Great, so you're nuts and you're crazy."

"At least I've never ended up in a mental ward."

"An oversight I'm sure," she responded dryly.

"Well if we're nuts, then how do you explain what you saw down in that cave?"

"I don't know what I saw, maybe some sort of animal, maybe some loon playing dress up." Parker shifted uneasily. She'd been trying to rationalize what she'd seen for nearly a week now. Then these two guys show up, talking about demons and creatures. She shook her head. She didn't believe them, she didn't want to. Her throat tightened and she felt the hot sting of tears prick the back of her eyes.

Dean's eyes locked on hers. "Don't do that," he said, his voice softening. "Don't lie to yourself because that's what everyone wants you to do. You know what you saw down there, and I'm telling you, it's real."

"No." The protest was weak, even to Parker's ears. She felt like the past week was rushing in on her, pushing her to the brink of an emotional breakdown. Far off in the distance, a siren wailed. Her hand started to shake.

"We're gonna help you, whether you want us to or not." Dean nodded tightly, and Sam charged forward. Instinctively, Parker spun to face him. That's when Dean grabbed her from behind. Parker twisted in his grip, bringing the knife up defensively. Dean was ready. He latched onto her forearm, jamming his thumb into the soft flesh of her wrist just behind the heel of her hand. She dropped the knife with a cry.

The elder Winchester had thought that once disarmed, Parker Quinn would simply give up. Apparently Parker wasn't much for giving up. She fought tooth and nail, flailing wildly in Dean's grasp. "Dude!" he exclaimed. "A little help?" Sam came forward to help his brother subdue the thrashing girl. Parker managed to land a slippered foot solidly in Sam's gut. He exhaled in a loud whoosh, stumbling backward clutching his stomach.

"Let go of me!" Parker screamed angrily. "I think I was better off back at Somerset! At least then people like you are on medication!" Then she threw herself backward, pushing off her feet and slamming all her weight into Dean, hoping to knock him off balance or force him to let her go. Her first objective she managed, as Dean stumbled over the uneven ground. A large stone at the edge of the gravel shoulder was finally his undoing, and he fell, dragging Parker down with him.

Dean landed on his back, grunting as Parker crashed down on top of him. "Ow!" he yelled, letting the dark haired woman go. "You bit me!" he cried incredulously, his eyes wide with shock and anger. Parker rolled off him and scrambled to her feet, only to have Sam grab her, twisting her arm up behind her back. Then he lashed out with a foot, sending her to her knees. Dean drew himself off the ground, his jacket and jeans painted by a layer of dust. He held his left wrist firmly in his right hand, and Sam could see the raised welt of teeth marks on his hand.

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched. Dean noticed. "What, you think this is funny?"

Sam shrugged, shaking his head, his face feigning innocence. "Of course not. A chic kicked your ass, that's not funny."

"She did _not_ kick my ass. She bites. Who bites?"

The girl rolled her eyes, "Oh, I'm so sorry. If it makes you feel better, it's not like I enjoyed the experience." Parker's nose wrinkled and she spit. "Dude, you need to wash." Dean shot her a withering look as he walked back to the Impala.

After a moment or two of digging around, he came out triumphant, a set of handcuffs dangling in the air. "Like I said, we're gonna help you whether you like it or not. We are not the bad guys here." He tossed them to Sam, who caught them in his free hand. Sam snapped the cuffs around Parker's wrists and pulled her to her feet. Sam pressed her head down as he pushed her into the back seat.

--

It was nearly nine by the time the Impala rolled into the parking lot at the Super Saver Motel in Deerville, the last small town on the map before they would need to head up logging roads toward Bear Rock. The neon vacancy sign winked sporadically, casting weird patterns of pink light over the parking lot. Dean parked as far from the office as he could manage, beneath a burned out light. The last thing they needed was for someone to see them dragging a bound girl into a seedy motel room.

Sam went to check in at the front desk. Dean kept a wary eye on their passenger via the rear view mirror. Parker just glared daggers back at him, slumped dejectedly in the back seat, her lips pursed into a pout. "Is there anything I can say that's gonna make you trust us?" A muscle in her jaw flexed, but she didn't say anything. Dean sighed, "fine."

Sam came back, key in hand. The brothers deftly hurried Parker into the room. For Parker's part, she didn't scream. There was no point really. Screaming meant cops, which inevitably meant a trip back to Somerset House, which was precisely in the opposite direction of Angie. No, she'd play along and be quiet till she saw a chance to get away. After all, they might have been highly delusional ghost hunters, but they had sprung her out of Somerset. Nor had either one done anything she could really define as threatening. Hell, had she let some stranger out of a mental ward only to be threatened with a knife not soon after, she'd probably handcuff them too.

Inside, Sam booted up the lap top while Dean flipped through their father's journal. Parker they had handcuffed securely to the bed frame. She sat on the edge of the bed farthest from the window, peering curiously over Dean's shoulder despite herself. The curtains were drawn, and a single bare bulb lighted the boys work space. "What do you think this thing is Dean? Demon? Creature? Shapeshifter maybe?"

The older Winchester shuddered. "Ugh, as long as whatever it is doesn't shape shift into me. Once is enough thanks. I don't know Sammy, it doesn't sound like anything we've dealt with before, and I can't find anything remotely close to it in dad's journal either."

"So this thing," Sam looked to Parker, frowning as the computer searched for a usable wireless connection, "you have anything else to go on other than red eyes and possible wings?"

"You're wasting your time trying to get a wireless connection this far up," she observed mildly. "As for…whatever that was…I don't know. Like I said, I only saw it for a second."

Sam let out a long sigh, knowing she was right. He leaned over and disconnected the phone line before inserting it in his computer. The modem would have to do. Dial up was slow, but at least it was reliable. He glanced over the top of the screen. "Think if you saw a picture you could identify it?"

"I dunno, maybe." Parker swung her feet up onto the bed and stretched out contentedly. Even the cheap mattresses at the Super Saver beat out the simple cots at Somerset. She hadn't slept a full night the whole time she'd been there. "Why does it matter if I can tell you what it is anyway?"

"Different beasties, different ways to kill 'em." Dean supplied. "Shape shifter, silver bullets. Somethin' else, maybe fire, maybe destroying a relic or talisman. We try not to go into these things unprepared."

Parker grunted a little, sliding her free hand behind her head. "You guys are really serious about all this junk huh?" It was not the type of question that required an answer, and neither brother felt inclined to supply one. "How long you been at this anyway?"

Uncomfortable silence filled the room. Finally, Sam answered. "A long time, a really long time."

The next morning was an early one. Sam and Dean had spent a less than comfortable night sharing one of the motel rooms queen beds, the two ancient, beaten extra pillows set between them, dividing the mattress in half. They woke just as the sun started to rise. Dean swung his legs over the bed, running a hand through unruly hair. Parker lay on the second bed on her back, arms and legs spread eagle beneath the covers. "Glad someone slept well," he mumbled to himself.

By mutual, unspoken agreement the brothers rose and faced one another across the bed. Two quick games of 'rock, paper, scissors' later Dean was headed for the small bathroom and a shower and Sam was pulling on a pair of jeans to go scout out coffee and some breakfast. One of these days Sam was going to figure out how Dean managed to win nearly every time.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom slightly more awake then when he'd gone in. He'd drawn on a clean black T-shirt, and the same jeans as the day before. He pocketed his wallet and the handcuff key. His hair was still wet. Parker was still asleep on the bed, but she didn't look peaceful anymore. She lay on her side, knees drawn nearly to her chest. Her face had paled and she was shaking. Dean recognized the signs of being in the throes of a nightmare immediately, since Sam still had them regularly.

He strode over to the girl. "Hey." Parker didn't wake, but now Dean could hear the quiet utterance she kept repeating over and over. 'Angie, run.' "Hey," he said again, louder. This time he leaned over her, giving Parker a small shake. "Hey, wake up."

Her eyes flew open and she emitted a small, strangled cry. She sat bolt upright, scooting away from Dean to cower as close to the headboard as she could manage. Her eyes roamed wildly, unfocused on the room around her. She sucked in air in heaving gasps. "Parker look at me," Dean ordered, leaning over her. He set a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "It's okay. You're safe."

Parker grasped at his shirtsleeve, twisting the fabric in her hand and pulled Dean closer. She still looked freaked, but at least she was looking him in the eye. "Tell me this is all just a dream," she whispered breathily. "Tell me I'm gonna wake up. This isn't real. You're not real."

Dean felt a wave of sympathy for the girl. "Parker I'm sorry," he began gruffly, "but this isn't a dream. It's all real, and so am I."

"Prove it," she demanded huskily. She moved away from the headboard, sliding closer to Dean. Then, much to Dean's surprise she stretched up, locking Dean's mouth in an insistent kiss. Dean froze. He might have been a cad, but he wasn't about to take advantage of the girl's vulnerability. He tried to pull back. Parker's fingers curled around his shoulder persistently. Long legs snaked out to wrap around Dean's thighs, drawing him closer. Warmth coursed through Dean's body. The part of Dean telling him this was wrong warred with the part telling him it felt good.

He drew back. "Parker," he breathed.

"Shut up" she said against his lips before kissing him again. His fortitude was crumbling. This time he pushed back, welcoming the taste of her mouth in his. His knees thumped against the side of the bed. It was an awkward position, half on the bed, half off. He leaned over farther, his hands pressing down on the mattress on either side of her. Parker's free hand moved from his shoulder, slipping down to his waist.

"Dean!" Sam's voice from the doorway made him freeze. Dean straightened quickly, disentangling himself from Parker. He spun, feeling a flush at his neck. Parker buried herself beneath the bed covers. Sam was staring at him in wide eyes amazement, his mouth dangling open. He hand a cardboard coffee hold in one hand, a white paper bag peppered by small grease spots in the other.

"Hey Sam," Dean greeted him, his voice unnaturally bright. "Breakfast?"

Sam threw the bag down on the table by the door. Then he set the coffee down. "Could I speak to you for a second Dean? Outside?" Dean agreeably followed the taller man out of the hotel room. He shut the door behind him. Sam led him a few yards away to stand over by the softly whirring coke machine. "What….I mean… seriously… why…. with…?"

Dean couldn't help but grin. "You know Sammy that's about as inarticulate as you've been in months."

"What the hell Dean? I just went to get breakfast…"

"Hey," he said defensively, "she came on to me." He shrugged and grinned, that, you-can't-touch-me-I'm-golden look he often got. "Not that I can blame her."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm hungry, let's just go eat." He walked back toward the hotel room and opened the door. "Hey Parker, how do you feel about….doughnuts?" He whirled to face Dean. "Where is she?"

"What do you mean where is she? She's right…." Dean shouldered his way past his brother. The bed was empty, handcuffs dangling open from the frame. The brothers rushed into the back, only to discover the small bathroom window unlocked and hanging open.

Sam rested his hands on his hips. "Couldn't resist you huh? Or couldn't resist the lure of the keys in your pocket?"

Dean's hands flew to his hips. He groaned, feeling embarrassed. He should have known. His face darkened. "Even worse than that. Bitch stole my wallet!"

--

Downtown Deerville consisted of exactly four stores: the gas station, a small mom and pop grocery, a greasy spoon diner and the Outdoor Outfitting store. So when the bell above Outdoor Outfitting's front door jangled and Dean and Sam Winchester stepped inside, Parker wasn't exactly surprised. She needed climbing gear to get to Angie, so did they. She just suddenly wished Deerville were a little bigger. She pulled the Rockies baseball cap down lower on her head and shuffled toward the back of the small store.

The brothers went to the front of the shop and started to talk to Celeste, the owner and manager. Parker kept one eye on them through a display of climbing harnesses. Celeste pointed them toward the back. Parker swore beneath her breath and turned to move away. Instead she ran head on into another patron. She mumbled a quick apology and tried to pass the man. He stepped in front of her.

"Excuse me," she said quietly. She stepped to the right and he mirrored her move.

She looked up into the face of a young, college aged man. He was tall, with broad shoulders and sandy blonde hair curling out from under his cap. "Wait a second there darlin', don't I know you?"

It was, in fact, quite possible that he did. She was a frequent visitor to Deerville and the surrounding areas, leading spelunking trips all around the area. Not only that, but she was sure her picture had been plastered all over TV by now, listing her an escaped fugitive wanted in the connection of two disappearances. "I don't think so. Now, if you don't mind…" She took a quick step back to the left and tried to duck past him, well aware at how quickly Sam and Dean were closing in on her location.

The blonde grabbed her upper arm and stopped her. "No, I'm pretty sure I do know you. Never forget a face." His eyes narrowed as he tried to get a better look at her. Parker ducked her head.

"Let go of me," she hissed. Her gaze flicked longingly toward the front door. Celeste was now watching curiously from behind the counter.

Sam looked up from examining the several lengths of rope and belaying devices that Celeste had pointed out on the back wall. Some guy was hassling a girl at the other corner of the store. Her back was to them, but white bandages poked out the sleeves of her grey hooded sweatshirt. Sam elbowed Dean and motioned toward the obviously arguing pair. Dean's right eyebrow shot upward and the disgruntled frown on his face deepened.

"Hey you," Dean growled as he approached. Parker's shoulders slumped, defeated. The blonde Neanderthal stared dumbly at the approaching man. "How about letting go of my girlfriend?" The blonde looked between Dean and Sam and withdrew his hand.

He stepped back. "Sorry guys. My bad." Then he turned and made a quick retreat for the door. Parker tried to walk off too, but both Sam and Dean grabbed an arm. She sighed.

"My wallet," Dean whispered between clenched teeth, trying not to draw any further attention from Celeste. "Now, please." Parker dug it out of the front pocket of her sweatshirt and handed it over. Dean rifled through the contents, relieved to see nothing was missing. With a jerk of his head the brothers started moving toward the exit, keeping Parker between them.

Celeste came out from behind the shop's counter. She walked in front of the door and stopped. It wasn't till she turned around that they saw the shotgun in her hands. Celeste leveled the weapon with the authority of someone who knew how to use it. All three young people stopped dead in their tracks. "Just stop right there," Celeste ordered. "I know who you all are, and you're not leaving."

Chapter 3

Okay, next chapter will get into the creature a little more, I swear. Please review, and to everyone who has so far, thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

A/N: Hope you're starting to enjoy this.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them.

Any doubts Sam or Dean had about the woman's seriousness were eradicated when she primed the shotgun. The barrel of the weapon never wavered from its target, dead center on Sam's chest. Dean pasted a smile on his face and took a step forward. "Whoa! I think there's been a mistake here ma'am. My brother, girlfriend and I are just passing through. You must have us confused with someone else."

The gun swung from Sam's chest to Dean's. "I'm getting old son, not getting stupid. I said I know who you are, and you're not leaving." Her pleasant southwestern drawl was laced with an icy edge. Parker pulled the brim of her cap farther down on her head.

"Maybe if you could just put the gun down we could talk about this," Dean tried another tact. "That way no one will get hurt."

"You're right, no one will, assuming you take yourself a few steps away from me. Hand's not so steady as she was a few years ago. I wouldn't want my nervousness to effect the happy of my trigger finger if you know what I mean? So now, if you please." She shooed him away with the shotgun. Dean fell back with the others.

Celeste was a small woman, with graying auburn hair and a slight hitch in her step. Dark chocolate eyes brimmed with the intelligence and deep lines only age could give. Those wizened eyes narrowed slightly as she scrutinized Parker. "Quinn, is that you?" Her head shot up and she grimaced. "Girl, take that damned hat off so I can see your face," the old woman demanded.

A broad smile swept across Parker's face. She swept the ball cap off her head, and long, dark tresses fell loosely to her shoulders. "Hey Celeste."

"Hey yourself."

"How've you been?"

"Little bad, little good. Hip's starin to go on me."

This time, Sam tried to get a word in. "Excuse me, Celeste? Maybe if we could just explain…."

"Uh uh," the woman wagged her head. "I don't want to hear any cock and bull come outta your mouth son, understand?" She clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Lord Parker, I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you getting in some sort of trouble. Now bring yourself on over here next to me and start telling me what the devil is goin on? Feel like I've stepped into the Twilight Zone."

Sam grunted a little. "Well, she's not too far off."

Parker's face brightened even further and she practically skipped across the distance between her and the counter. "God Celeste I could kiss you."

Dean shot a dark look over his shoulder at Sam and remarked dryly, "Seems like she makes a habit of that, doesn't she?"

"Well maybe if you started using your upstairs head a little more," Sam returned with fake pleasantness.

"Hey, both my heads are functioning perfectly well. Personally I think you ought use your downstairs brain a little more often." Sam glowered. "Besides, she's just a little conniving…"

Parker smirked. "Well you sure as heck weren't bitchin about it this morning." Dean smiled humorlessly.

Celeste watched the exchange with some interest, but decided to keep her mouth shut and let it pass. There were more pressing matters at hand to discuss. "You want to tell me why the local Troopers have been buzzin' around here for the last week pepperin me and mine with questions about you? They kept asking me if you had any mental instability, like schizophrenia or something. Parker," her voice dropped into a harsh whisper, "they think you killed somebody. And the TV today, your picture is everywhere. You're a fugitive."

"Actually, to be fair," Dean chimed in, "they think she killed two somebodies." Juvenile as it was, Parker had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

Parker's voice was thick. "They think I killed Angie and her boyfriend and dumped them into the deep in one of the caves." With that, the whole story poured out, from the morning of the disappearance to her escape from Somerset House. She managed to avoid mentioning Sam and Dean's involvement, saying only that they too had interest in Angie's disappearance. She wasn't quite ready to explain men that believed in werewolves and demonic possessions, let alone the fact that they ran said ghost hunting business out of the trunk of their car. "Lord Celeste you gotta believe me."

Something flickered across the old woman's face that made Sam curious, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. "Course I believe you Parker. I've known you and your sister since you were both knee high to a grasshopper. You may have played with fire more often then the good Lord would like when you were younger, but you're no killer. But Parker, you shouldn't be here, the cops are looking everywhere for you."

"I've got to find my sister."

"And who are they? Bounty hunters?"

Parker grunted, "No. That would actually make some twisted version of sense to me. Sam is the tall, good looking one. Dean, is the shorter, older, sulking guy on his left. They're…" Parker paused, racking her brain for some plausible explanation, "wildlife biologists." It sounded dumb, even to her.

"Hear that," Sam whispered leaning in closer to his brother, "I'm the cute one."

"Oh shut up. I am not old."

Meanwhile Parker was attempting to dig herself out of her proverbial wildlife biology hole. "They think some wild animal may have gotten trapped down in the deeps. They want to tag it, do research." Nope, that really didn't make it any better.

"Uh huh," Celeste looked between the girl and the two young men standing in her store. She'd known Parker practically the girl's whole life. Celeste knew she was lying through her teeth about something. She just wasn't sure exactly what. "So does that mean I can take those two outta my crosshairs?"

Muscles in Parker's jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth. Sam looked at her pleadingly, his hands still lifted up near his shoulders. Dean's lips thinned and he rocked his weight back onto his heels, lifting his chin defiantly. Even if Parker split, he and Sam would figure a way around Celeste. He and Sam always figured a way out. Parker didn't know if she believed them. Hell, she didn't know if she believed her own eyes. What she did believe was the feeling in her gut telling her to trust them, and she did admittedly prefer their company to that of a State Trooper, or to Dr. McAllister back at Somerset.

"Yeah," she said finally. "It's okay. They're…friends. They're gonna help find Angie." Celeste lowered the gun, though she still looked uncertain.

"Sorry boys. Never can be too careful."

Sam didn't bother to hide his heavy sigh of relief at the sight of the shotgun being lowered. "Of course, never."

Celeste turned away from them, shuffling slowly back behind the counter to put the gun away. Dean and Sam lowered their hands and moved toward Parker. Dean grinned, "Now was that so painful?"

"Excruciating," she deadpanned. "Just don't make me regret trusting you two," turning on her heel she marched off. She leaned over the glass countertop, "Celeste we need gear, and a lot of it. Cops took everything I had on me, my harness, my headlamp, my pack, and everything else I left in the cave. I need cams and rope," she motioned with her head over her shoulder, "and they need it too. And….I can't pay you, not right away."

Celeste's eyes went from wizened to shrewd. "I'm taking the trash out now," she told them all. "If in the five or so minutes I'm gone some damn teenagers come in and rob me well…. my insurance company is just gonna have to pay up, aren't they?" She winked, took a small bag of trash from the bin and started for the back door. "Good luck finding your sister honey, I get the feeling you're going to need it."

An hour later the trio had returned to their hotel. Both beds in the room were laden with gear, ropes, cams, and all the battery powered lights they could manage to carry. Sam had a map of the area laid out on the table, and the trio poured over it. Parker tapped a section of the map. "The cave we got attacked in is right here. But if I had to guess, that thing is holed up here, in the Deep."

"The Deep?" Sam repeated questioningly.

"Only the meanest, hairiest collection of caves assembled in this part of the Rockies. Only experts climb there, and only rarely at that. It's treacherous. There's a huge maze of tunnels, caverns, underground lakes and rivers and a nasty gorge in one that leads who knows where."

Her eyes took on a dazed, distant look Dean couldn't help but notice. The hair on her arms stood on end and gooseflesh rose with it. "Have you climbed it?"

"Yeah," she nodded tightly, now grinding her teeth on the inside of her cheek. "Once."

"And?" he prodded. This whole hunt was starting feel like it bordered on suicide, and he didn't need any more surprises.

"And nothing," Parker snapped, "I lived to talk about it, which is a lot more than I can say for a lot of people who go in there." Neither Sam nor Dean pushed it any farther.

"How far?" Sam interjected, breaking her from meandering thoughts.

"It's a two day hike from the end of the last logging road, a few hours out from my family's cabin, here. No offense guys, but we need to get up there quicker than that, and your car isn't exactly the off roading type."

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look. "Not a problem," they responded in unison.

Half an hour later Dean was crouched beneath the popped hood of a large, heavily modified Jeep Cherokee. The tires were abnormally large, and running boards had been added to either side to accommodate the several inches of lift given by the tires and heavy duty shocks. Mud splattered what might have been a red paint job. Sam was keeping the Jeep's owner, a brawny young man in Carharts, inside Deerville's one eatery, a greasy spoon christened with the name Maude's Diner. Parker kept looking anxiously over her shoulder at the diner's front door. The Jeep had been parked beneath a shady pine, a small blessing at least, but she knew they were taking a huge risk jacking the vehicle in broad daylight.

"Where'd you learn how to do this anyway?" she hissed.

Dean answered without diverting his attention. "Products of a misspent youth."

"Yeah, I had one of those."

"I seriously doubt they were comparable." The engine sputtered once, then turned over. Dean slammed the hood shut, a triumphant look on his face.

Parker regarded him shrewdly. "I think I'm getting that." Dean didn't answer. He just jumped into the front seat, leaned over and pushed her door open as well. Parker drew in a deep breath. At least if she got arrested this time, it would be for a crime she actually helped commit. She jumped in and Dean made a beeline out of the parking lot. Sam was going to meet them halfway up the logging road with the Impala in an hour. They were on their way.

--

The trio reached the Quinn family cabin late in the afternoon. They had stashed the Impala under the cover of the trees and went on with their stolen Four wheeler. The cabin was a small, run down looking log building square in the middle of no where, deep in the pine forest of the mountain. The windows were so dirty nobody could have seen through them, even with their nose pressed to the glass.

Much as Parker wanted to get going on the search for Angie, she knew better than to attempt to traverse the Deep tired. They would stay the night, sleep, and get an early start. Parker cast her pack at the side of the slightly weather beaten couch and plopped down on her back. "Two twin beds in the next room, there's a well out back if you need water."

Instant oatmeal and strong, bitter black coffee served as a quick breakfast the next morning. They set out early, before seven, each shouldering a pack laden with equipment and an assortment of hunting weapons the brothers had amassed over time. They didn't know exactly what they'd be facing, so they were going prepared. They began their stalwart march westward, up a steadying incline and thinning trees. Parker knew the way, so she led.

Sam and Dean were both sweating and gasping when they reached the base of the Deep. Neither one had had time to acclimate to the altitude, which pushed past 9,000 feet. The air was thin, and both Dean and Sam were light headed. From where they stood the ground ceased its gradual incline, giving way to a sheer rock face that extended ever upward. Both Sam and Dean sat heavily on the ground, light headed and a little nauseous. Parker shook the pack off her shoulders and dug through it. She tossed the brothers a bottle of water each, then took one for herself. "Altitude sickness is dangerous. Tell me if you're feeling sick. I can keep going on my own."

"Forget it," Sam wheezed a little, arguing between deep gulps of water.

"Look it's not gonna do anyone any good if one of you drops dead up here. You've just ascended almost 4,000 feet in the last day, and you're not used to it. I wasn't kidding when I said this place was dangerous, even for spelunkers with decades of experience."

"I can almost guarantee that this thing is more dangerous," Dean forced himself to take a long, deep breath. "You're gonna need us to get out of this thing alive. Give us a couple minutes and we'll be fine." Parker wanted to argue more, but in truth she knew she'd feel a lot better with them than without.

Sam ran his arm across his brow. "You said you've climbed here before."

"I have. I wouldn't do it again unless I had to, and now I guess I do."

Sam screwed the cap back on the water. "So what made you do it the first time?"

Parker's eyes glazed again, like they had back at the cabin. "I was looking for someone."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Who?"

Parker's face got hard, stony. She zipped up her pack. "My father. He died up here." Sam and Dean exchanged glances. They weren't strangers to the emotional roller coaster of losing a parent, and especially not knowing exactly what happened. Parker didn't seem inclined to talk about it, and the brothers were disinclined to ask.

Suddenly the wind picked up, bringing with it a sound that made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand on end. It was a cry, a high wail the likes he'd never heard before, and it was coming from a deep crag in the rock face. Dean shouldered his pack, his face unreadable. "let's go"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

A/N: Okay, so back on track with this story. Hopefully you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own em, just the ones you haven't seen on TV.

The didn't hear the wailing cry again as the threesome began to ascend the rocky incline. It was slow going. There was a trail, but it was narrow and littered with loose shale. Sam adjusted his pack. He had to walk up the trail in a crouch in some places, using his hands to grasp solid rock protrusions and haul himself up. Despite the nip in the air, sweat rolled down his face, staining the collar of his shirt.

Parker paused and righted herself, pointing out a deep crag in the rock still some 40 or 50 feet up the slope. "There, that's the entrance to Crystal Lake Cavern." She looked back down the trail at the brothers. "I figured we'd start…" she trailed off, and her lips thinned. One eyebrow shot up into her hairline. "Are you checking out my butt?"

Dean grinned unapologetically. "Well come on Parker, you are right in front of me, and it's not like this trail is scenic. Seen one rock, seen 'em all."

Parker let out a disgusted noise and shook her head. She moved again, trudging along toward the mouth of the cave. "Are you ever _not _an ass?" she shot back over her shoulder.

"Oh so we're playin this game. I got one. Are you ever not a bitch?" Dean heaved himself past a small ledge. "I mean, when was the last time you got some? Seriously?"

"Sam," Parker stopped once more and called out. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but when this is all over I am going to have to kill your brother."

"Right," Dean snorted. "Like to see you try."

"Oh don't tempt me."

"Oh that is it," Sam passed Dean, placing himself between his older brother and Parker. The two seemed intent on glaring each other down in the middle of the rock face. "The two of you need to separate." Sam glanced between them. "What are you, twelve?"

"He started it," Parker grumbled.

"Oh yeah," Dean replied, "that's very mature." Sam smacked the back of Dean's head lightly, earning him a deadly glare. "What?" Sam sighed. He really was cursed.

Soon the three of them reached the cave mouth, and all bickering, light hearted or otherwise, evaporated. Wind swept down the mountain and over the opening, and just like blowing over the top of a beer bottle, a low, eerie whistle sounded. Sam, Dean and Parker all shrugged out of their packs. The first 100 or so feet into the Crystal Lake Cavern was little more than a narrow slit in the mountain. They would only be able to take the essentials. Moments like these found Parker giving silent thanks to the man that invented cargo pants. The deep pockets along her thighs allowed her to stow a large handful of glow-sticks, two Mag lights and some spare batteries, without adding too much extra bulk.

Then she stepped into her climbing harness and cinched it. The cams, chalk bag, belay and pick she'd taken from Celeste's store hung from loops on the harness. Parker picked up two ropes and slung one around each shoulder. She gingerly slid her still healing hands into a pair of fingerless gloves. Then she hooked a larger flashlight around her neck and donned her climbing helmet. Once finished, she turned to see if the brothers were ready.

Her jaw dropped open before she could stop it, and then closed with an audible snap a moment later. Sam and Dean were both on one knee, rifling through the contents of their two packs. Along with harness, headgear, a spare rope, and belay, littered on the ground was the oddest collection of weapons Parker had ever seen. "What in the world is all that for?"

"It's like we said," Sam explained patiently, "most of the stuff we hunt can't be killed just by shooting it." He picked up a pistol to show her before stowing it in a shoulder holster. "Silver bullets, if it's a shapeshifter."

Dean reached for one of two sawed off shotguns, both of which had slender flashlights fastened to the top with duct tape. "Rock salt, wards off most evil spirits." He pocketed a handful of shells in pockets on each side of his denim jacket. "Iron shot, for some others."

"Right," Sam was nodding now. He picked up a small canteen with a crude cross drawn on the front in Sharpie and tossed it to Dean. "Demons aren't too fond of Holy Water." Sam took a second canteen for himself. "When all else fails," he shrugged, "burn the sucker."

"Exactly." Dean slipped a large, sharp knife into a sheath strapped to his ankle and passed a second along to Sam. He saw the odd look Parker was shooting him. He shrugged. "Just in case."

"You know, the rational half of my head is telling me this is completely insane," Parker said.

Sam stood, eyeing the crevice in the rocks shrewdly. Great, he was going to have to duck the whole way in. "And the non rational part of your head, what's that telling you?"

Parker grimaced. "That I'm gonna start sleeping with the lights on and a glass of Holy Water on my nightstand."

Dean stowed a couple more talismans and righted himself. "All right I think we're set. What's the layout in there Parker? We need to know what we're walking into."

She drew in a deep, steadying breath. "This fissure goes back about 45 yards, then widens into a small cavern. Off the cavern there are three tunnels: the one on the left dead ends, the middle used to be a fairly straight shot through the mountain, but a slide two years ago plugged up the exit, and the right fork leads down to Crystal Lake and the Deep. That's where we're going."

"Anyplace for that thing to hide on our way there?" Sam queried.

Parker shrugged apologetically. "Couldn't say. Most of the caves up here, I wouldn't need a light to lead you through 'em, but here…" The insinuation was clear. This was a gamble, and a big one.

Dean led the way first. Parker followed just behind and Sam took the rear. The top of the fissure hit Sam in the center of his forehead. He was right, he was going to have to duck. He could immediately see why few people came up here. In some places the fissure became to narrow he had to contort his body and press himself hard against the stone just to slide through. If the first 50 yards were this daunting, he hated to think about the rest of it.

Finally, and none too soon for Sam, the crag dumped them out into a small chamber. The roof was still low enough he had to hunch, but at least he didn't feel like he was being suffocated by the walls. Dean stayed close to the wall, the shotgun up and at the ready. The bobbing lights of the headlamps were disorienting. Parker marched over to the tunnel entrance on the left.

"Angie!" she called loudly into the dark. The only answer that came was her echo.

Sam cringed. Wide eyed, Dean rushed over to her, snaked an arm around her and clamped his hand over her mouth. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

She yanked his hand away from her mouth. "How are we supposed to find her if she doesn't know we're here?" Parker returned sharply. "We could walk right by her and not even know it."

"Yeah well, it's not going to do your sister much good, letting that thing know we're coming for it." Parker opened her mouth to argue, but Dean cut her off, whispering sharply. "Look, we need to take care of this thing first. Don't tell me how to do my job and I won't tell you how to do yours. Now shut it."

Parker glared at him, but stayed quiet. She stalked over to Sam, who was already waiting outside the entrance to the right fork. "Follow me." Their march through the tunnel was actually slower than the first part of their journey. The tunnel floors were wet and slick, undulating haphazardly and it made walking tricky. Every once in a while smaller offshoot tunnels appeared on the right or left. Each time Parker paused, using a slender canister she had attached to her harness to spray paint a small, bright blue dot on the tunnel wall. Then they moved on.

Sam guessed that they'd been walking for nearly half an hour when the tunnel finally leveled out and widened. Parker held out her hands to stop the boys from moving past her. "Ledge," she said quietly. The brothers shone their lights downward. There, no more than ten feet in front of them, the ground disappeared. Dean thought he heard the sound of rushing water.

"This wall is about 40 feet down," Parker explained as she walked along the wall's edge. She drew her pick off her hip and began hammering a spike into a small crack in the stone. "It's not the longest drop we'll probably see, but it's one of the trickiest. Runoff feeds Crystal Lake every spring, and all the moisture makes the walls here smooth as glass. Hand and footholds are a real bitch, which is why we're gonna leave in a top line."

She drew one coil of rope off her shoulders. She started to thread it through the ring on the spike. "And you can't just repel down. The lake is right below us. This wall," she slapped the stone with an open palm, "is gonna be your guide. There's a small ledge on the right you're gonna have to swing over to when this wall goes away about ten feet from the bottom. There's a small land bridge we can cross once we're down. One of you is gonna feed me line, and then I'll belay from down there and guide you two in."

"You're not going first," Dean told her.

Parker finished tying herself in with a figure eight knot. She thrust the rest of the rope at Sam. "Thought you weren't going to tell me how to do my job," she said stonily. She sounded braver than she felt, and she was glad the darkness shrouded her face. Her skin felt like ice and she couldn't stop her hands from shaking. She wasn't gonna let anyone else die on her watch, but she wished like hell one of the brothers would offer her a gun. "Ready Sam?"

"Got you." Parker leaned back and started over. Sam let the line out slowly. Dean turned on the flashlight strapped to the gun and kept watch. A few agonizing minutes later, Sam felt the pull on the line lessen. Then came three quick, sharp tugs. Parker was down.

Sam handed the line over to Dean. "Age before beauty," he said.

Dean took the rope agreeably and started to tie in. "So what does that mean Sammy, I go down before myself?"

"Funny."

Dean moved cautiously back toward the edge. "Stay sharp Sam. We've been lucky so far this thing hasn't shown its ugly mug."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "and usually we're not that lucky." Dean smiled grimly and dropped over the edge.

Their luck held, as Dean made it down without incident. Making the ledge took a bit of a scramble. He'd had to use the rope like a giant pendulum, swinging far out before being able to make a grab for Parker's outstretched hand. Once unhooked, they sent the rope back up to Sam. "So far so good," Dean muttered to himself. Not three feet behind him Crystal Lake lay quiet behind him. The light from his headlamp reflected off its inky, glassy surface. He heard the gurgle of a small stream further down the cavern.

Sam began his descent, and Parker had to practically sit into her harness to keep the bigger man from lifting her off her feet. She let the line out slowly, her eyes riveted on the wall. Dean felt better with the shotgun firmly back in his grasp.

Sam hadn't been on the wall for two minutes when a foul odor prickled Dean's nose. It was sour and earthy. He swung the shotgun in a wide arc. He didn't see anything, not that it meant much. A sudden, low whoosh of air made him spin. "Sammy, get your ass down here quick!" The elder Winchester bellowed. Parker let the rope slide through her fingers as fast as she dared.

Up on the wall, Sam too had heard the gust. He fumbled trying to get the shotgun back over his shoulder while trying desperately to keep his feet planted firmly on the rock. He strained against his harness, craning his neck to see over his shoulder. There was antoher low woosh, and then the stench reached him. "See anything?" he called back. The time for quiet was over.

Dean was quietly cursing the narrow shafts of light his headlamp and the flashlight offered him. "No," he murmured to himself, "not a God damned thing."

The quiet screeching cry emanated from behind him. Dean whirled, and a beam of light fell across the creature. The creature seemed intent on barreling through him, raking Dean with long talons as it flew by. Dean stumbled backward, pulling the trigger, but the shot went wide. If not for the rock outcropping above them shielding him, the thing would have had a clearer shot. Dean's hand flew to his back. His jacket was shredded, but it seemed like that was the extent of the damage.

Sam didn't see it coming either, but he felt it. He turned to the right, and his eyes focused on the hideous, twisted face that was too human for him to be comfortable. Sucking in a quick breath, he raised the shotgun, and then his precarious footing failed him. His boot slipped off the rock and Sam swung into it, his shot flying wild. Sam took aim again, hanging helplessly in midair, but the creature was on top of him. Putrid breath hit him full in the face as the thing shrieked again, and it knocked the gun out of Sam's hands.

The shotgun hit the water behind Dean and Parker with a splash, disrupting its calm surface. "Sam!" Dean got as close to the edge as he dared, peering around the rock, trying to catch sight of his brother. He could make them out, barely. It was on top of Sam, wrestling with him on the rocks. "Get him down!" he yelled to Parker.

"I'm trying," she called back, near panic. The rope went slack in her hands. She wasn't supporting Sam's weight anymore. Then it went taught again, with a violent suddenness that sent her bodily into the wall. She grunted when she hit and pulled back mightily, but it was no use. That thing was dragging her around like a paper doll. Then Dean was at her side, his hands desperately clinging to the rope as well.

Sam was being ping pong-ed back and forth against the wall and into the monster. He was bleeding, its claws raking his shoulders and back. He reached down for his boot as he swung into the wall again, drawing out the hunting blade Dean had given him. He lashed out, slashing the thing across its midsection. It just seemed to piss it off. The creature buried its claws into him and wrenched him off the wall. The rope and harness pulled him in the opposite direction. He was being pulled apart. Sam couldn't help it, he screamed.

When the last precious inch of rope slipped out of Dean and Parker's hands, Dean felt like the world had plunged into slow motion. He pitched backward, striking the ground hard on his hip. Then he was on his feet again, running for the land bridge that would take him across the lake and to a better view of his brother's attacker. Each slap of his boots against the stone matched the thud of his heart. He stood in the middle of the cavern, shotgun up, searching.

Parker sprinted out just behind him, and flicked on the large, powerful flashlight she'd brought. She directed it up, using it as a spotlight for Dean. She finally got light on the creature, and Dean readjusted his grip on the gun, but he didn't fire. There was no way he could shoot it and not hit Sam. They were entwined together, Sam writhing in pain, high above the ground. Then the creature let him go.

Parker's light followed Sam's all too rapid descent. Horrified, Dean stood frozen as he watched his little brother strike the black water, and then vanish beneath it.

Chapter 5

Okay, please review…please? Good, bad, whatever, I'm new to Supernatural fic and I like to hear what I get right, and what I can improve. People who review get the extra cookie……


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

A/N: Haha, torturing the boys may become my new favorite pass time. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: If wishes came true I'd own them, but seeing as they don't….yeah

--

Sam plunged nearly 30 feet into the water of Crystal Lake. The rope that had been attached to his harness, the rope Dean hadn't manage to hold on to, floated on the surface for a moment before sinking as well. "Sam!" Dean cried. The monster was forgotten. Dean and Parker ran to the lake's edge, and Parker swept her light over the surface.

Dean tossed Parker his shotgun, which she caught, and threw aside his helmet. Even as Dean stripped off his torn jacket, he watched the water, hoping Sam would bob to the surface. He didn't. Dean yanked off his boots. "If it comes back…shoot it." He plunged into the water, gasping as the icy water struck him like a thousand small knives. It was so cold it was hard to breathe.

"What?" Parker looked around wildly, from the water, to the ceiling and back again. "You want me to…with the…what?" she called after him dumbly, brandishing the shotgun awkwardly. Dean wasn't listening. He drew in a deep breath and plunged into the water after Sam.

"Shit." Parker cried softly. "Shit. Shit. Shit." That thing was still in the cavern, she could feel it, but she couldn't hold the bulky flashlight and the shotgun at the same time. She opted for fire power over light, and set the flashlight at her feet. The bright beam shot up into the darkness overhead, and Parker hoped it would act as a deterrent, and not a beacon.

Parker grasped the shotgun tightly, her knuckles white. Dean's jacket was a few feet away on the ground, and she knew it had extra shells in it. She crouched, keeping her eyes up, her ears on the alert for the telltale sound of the creature's wings, and patted the ground blindly with her left hand for the coat. Her fingers closed on denim and she immediately drew it closer. She wanted to have ammunition handy in case she needed to reload. Her heart was slamming into her rib cage, and she glanced back at the lake, willing the brothers appear.

Meanwhile, Dean was in the midst of his own struggle against panic in the water. His clothes and the cold of the water hampered his every stroke. Not only that, but he couldn't see his hand in front of his face in the water, so how was he going to find Sam? It was black, inky black. His fingers were splayed, groping wildly in the dark, but no Sam. His lungs were burning for air, but he couldn't turn back, not yet. Finally, as spots started swimming in front of his eyes, Dean kicked for the surface.

Out of the corner of her eye, Parker saw Dean break the surface with a loud gasp. He floated there for a moment and then dove back under. A rock skittered behind her. The hairs on the back of Parker's neck stood on end. She froze. She could hear it breathing behind her. She'd been listening for the sound of its wings, and it had snuck up on her on the ground instead.

Parker dove forward, twisting around as she fell. The creature cried out and lunged for her. She landed hard on her left hip, her torso twisted around to face her attacker. Her headlamp caught the monster full in the face and just for an instant it sucked back. It was all the opening Parker needed. Her finger closed around the trigger. The kick from the shotgun felt like getting tagged by a mule, but it did the trick. The shot hit the creature at nearly point blank range. It flew backward with a gurgling, choking cry.

On her knees Parker scrambled to reload the weapon. She slid two new cartridges into the chamber and snapped the gun shut. Then she drew herself up onto quivering legs. The creature was convulsing on the ground. Parker inched closer, then shot it again, and again, till it lay still.

She was still staring at it when a splash from the lake alerted her. "I can't find him!" Dean called out to her between desperate, sucking breaths. The anguish was evident in his voice. "It's too dark. I can't see." He slapped the water with his hand in frustration. "Damn it!" Parker discarded the shotgun and hurried over to the water's edge. "What are you doing?" He squinted into the darkness.

"I think I killed it," she answered. "I have an idea." She tore at the pocket of her pants, spilling its contents onto the cavern floor. Then she started cracking the glo-sticks, shaking them till they began to give off an incandescent light. She handed one to Dean, kept one for herself and threw the rest into water where she thought she'd seen Sam go down. It didn't make for a lot of light, but they were better off than they had been before. Dean slid back under and Parker followed.

Dean watched through stinging eyes as the first glo-stick hit the lake bottom. At least Crystal Lake wasn't all that deep, maybe ten or twelve feet, a small blessing anyway. He turned his focus on the other tiny glowing tubes. One floated downward a few feet to his right. Dean's heart leapt. A hand. He saw a hand. Two powerful kicks sent him sliding through the water. Sam. He'd found him.

Sam was floating just off the bottom, the rope still attached to his climbing harness. It twisted around his legs and torso. Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, and pushed off the bottom. It was hard to drag Sam off the bottom, and as they rose Dean struggled to remove the shotgun from where it hung around his shoulders. He found the pistol and tossed it as well. Dean's lungs were screaming for air by the time they made it above the water. Sam's head barely made it above water when the rope halted their progress. Dean reached one had under the water and tugged, but the line was stuck.

"Parker," Dean sputtered, water filling his mouth. He was treading water furiously, but he could barely keep his head up. "Parker," he called again, "I got him." He heard the girl's swift strokes through the water before he saw her. "The rope," Dean sank below again. He surfaced, spitting out the lake water. "He's caught….my boot." It was getting harder to stay afloat. His teeth chattered.

Parker didn't answer, but dove again into the icy depths. She grasped Dean's ankle in both hands, stilling it for a precious moment till she could withdraw his knife from its sheath. Then she propelled herself downward, latching onto Sam's leg with one hand, and began to slice through the rope. Luckily the knife was razor sharp, and made short work of it. In a matter of seconds Sam was free, and Dean was pulling him to shore.

"He's not breathing," Dean choked out as he lay Sam on his back just out of the water. Parker scrambled up onto the bank after them. Dean pressed two fingers to Sam's neck. "Oh God." Dean clasped his hands together and placed them on the left side of his brother's chest. "C'mon Sam," he said as he started compressions. Parker kneeled beside Sam's head. Dean paused and Parker leaned in, sealing her lips over Sam's mouth and blowing air into his lungs.

Nothing happened. Dean did another set of compressions. A burning, bitter taste hit the back of his throat as it constricted. Parker blew air into his lungs. Dean held his breath. "Breathe damn it." Suddenly Sam's back arched and Parker lurched away. Water spilled out of Sam's mouth and he gasped, though his eyes remained firmly shut. Dean slowly drew himself up on shaking legs. He was relieved Sam was breathing again, but he was still bleeding on his arms and back as well as a nasty looking gash on the left side of his head.

"Let's go," he prompted, swaying a little. They had to keep moving. Sam was probably in shock, and Dean worried about hypothermia, for all of them. He could barely feel his own fingers. "We have to get him out of here." He stooped, gripping Sam beneath his arms. "Parker, help me."

She remained rooted in place, though now she was shivering. "Angie's still down here," she reminded him in a small voice. "I can't leave her."

Dean looked her square in the eye. He knew exactly how she felt. "You killed it, right?"

Parker swept her flashlight off the ground and aimed it at where the monster had fallen. The beam illuminated a foot and the edge of one wing. "I hit it point blank and it ain't moving, so yeah."

"Then as long as she's alive she's safe. She'll make it one more day. Sam might not if we don't get him out of here. We will come back for her. I promise."

Parker bit her lip to fight back tears. Angie was so close, but the brothers had risked their lives to help find her. She couldn't abandon Sam now. "All right." She bent over and picked up Sam's legs. Then they started their arduous journey back out of the Crystal Lake Cavern. Unbeknownst to either Dean or Parker, as they crossed the land bridge the still and bloodied form they'd left at the far end of the lake stirred, watching them leave through glowing red eyes.

--

Five times Parker fell while making the lead climb up the wall, threading rope through the cams she wedged into small cracks. In her first three attempts, she'd managed to scale only a few feet before her muscles betrayed her. The rock face was smooth and the chalk in her bag, which she hadn't bothered to remove before diving into the water, was virtually useless. Then, after she had reached summit, Dean used the rope like a pulley to bring Sam to the top.

It took nearly two hours to get Sam back up the wall, through the tunnel, the cavern and the narrow slice in the rocks face. He didn't so much as twitch the whole time. Outside, what had started as a sunny, warm autumn day had turned cloudy, windy and cool. According to Dean's watch it was just past four; they'd been in the cave for a little over four hours.

The first icy blast of wind that hit nearly sent Parker to her knees. It sliced through her, brutal and unapologetic. She fell back against the wall. She was having a hard time focusing her sight. She was so tired, and so cold. If she just closed her eyes for a moment…

"Hey, hey!" Dean barked. Dean had set Sam gently on the ground, giving his tired arms a small break before they started back for the cabin. He hopped over his brother's legs to Parker. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a firm shake. Her eyes flew open again. _Dean's lips are blue._ _That's a funny color. I wonder what color my lips are?_

"None of that," he told her through chattering teeth. "We still have a long way to go." Parker nodded wordlessly, pushing herself off the rock. They couldn't stop, not yet.

Never had Dean seen a more glorious sight than the Quinn family cabin when it finally came into view, or the muddy red jeep parked just beside it. Darkness had fallen, and so had the temperature. Dean and Parker stumbled into the cabin, Sam slung between them, his feet dragging on the ground behind him. They laid Sam on the couch. Dean went for the keys to the Jeep and Parker slid to her knees. "How far to the nearest hospital?" he asked. He hated hospitals, hated the thought of bringing Sam near one, but he didn't see any other option.

"Too far," Parker answered from her place on the floor as she peeled off her long sleeve shirt to reveal the black tank top underneath. "But Walden has an emergent care center; it's about 20 minutes down the pass from Deerville. My mom lives there and she's used it before; said they're good."

Dean nodded, slithering out of his still soaked T-shirt. He pulled another over his head and shrugged into his leather coat. He wasn't warm exactly, but he was better. He threw one of Sam's oversized hooded sweatshirts at Parker. Then he went for Sam. His skin was pale, clammy and cold. His pulse was faint. Dean stripped off Sam's sweatshirt and T-shirt and wrapped his torso in the thick wool blanket that hung off the arm of the couch. Then he levered Sam off the couch and over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and headed out the door.

"Get in the back with him," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Parker couldn't have if she wanted to; it was a battle just to slide into the seat. Dean placed Sam inside, his shoulders in Parker's lap, leaving her to cradle his head with her arm. Dean leapt into the front seat, stuck the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Then he cranked the heat. He pressed his foot onto the accelerator and gravel kicked out from the tires as the jeep fishtailed away from the cabin and down the mountain.

Dean slid the Jeep to a stop in front of the Walden Emergent Care center some hours later. He rushed inside and when he came back out, three people with a gurney followed him. Together they lifted Sam out of the car and wheeled him inside, the doctor calling for heating pads and warm saline. Dean and Parker were relegated to sitting in orange plastic chairs outside the front desk. She pulled the hood up to hide her face. Dean leaned his elbows on his knees, though his foot never stopped its incessant tapping. After ten or fifteen minutes, the doctor emerged from the back. His name was Paulson.

"Your brother's core temperature is our main concern," Dr. Paulson informed Dean. "When you brought him in it was hovering at 92 degrees, which is considered severe hypothermia. But we've started raising it slowly with heat packs and fluids. We're doing a CT scan on him at the moment, but I'd say the blow to his head was minor. A few of his lacerations need sutures, but on the whole he is a very lucky young man. Where exactly did you say you were climbing again?"

Dean's gaze flitted over to Parker. She had her head down, the hood obscuring her face. "Crystal Lake," he said slowly, gauging the doctor's reaction. His expression slid into something between disbelief and contempt.

The doctor pursed his lips. "I'm assuming you didn't go through the novelty of actually hiring a guide did you?" When Dean didn't answer immediately the doctor nodded. "Thought so. You were all very lucky to get out of that cave, I hope you realize that. Next time you three decide to go exploring, hire a professional."

Dean chose to ignore the man. They'd had good reason for going in that cave, even if the doctor would never know it. "When can I see my brother?"

"As soon as he gets out of CT and X-ray and we settle him in his room. It'll be about forty minutes or an hour."

"And when do you think he'll wake up?"

"Right now my best guess is that Sam in unconscious due to the hypothermia. He'll probably wake up fairly quickly once he regulates thermally." Paulson's eyes narrowed a little and he leaned to the left to get a better look at the hooded girl. "You said you dove in after your brother, correct?"

"Yeah," Dean's eyes flicked nervously between Parker and the doctor. Her attempt to look inconspicuous, and as far as Dean could tell, her attempt to sink through the floor, was starting to draw attention. "That's what I said."

Paulson wasn't listening to Dean anymore. "Are you all right miss?"

"Fine," Parker responded quickly, never raising her eyes. "I'm fine." Still looking unconvinced, doctor Paulson turned and headed back through the swinging doors that led into the bowels of the clinic. Dean resumed his foot tapping, and began to gnaw at the fingernail of his thumb.

"I should have gone last," he said finally. "I should have kept a better eye out."

"Why?" Parker asked. "So you could be lying in there instead of Sam? And who's to say that that thing wouldn't have attacked any earlier? It could have just as easily gone after you, or me." She reached out for Dean's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Dean stared down at it, a weird expression crossing his face. "You got him out. The rest you had no control over."

"Your hand is freezing," Dean said out of the blue. He twisted in his seat and jerked back the hood of the sweatshirt. Her skin and lips were pale beneath her tan. Her eyes were distant and she looked anxious. Angie, he'd nearly forgotten. She needed a distraction.

"Still cold?" Parker nodded absent mindedly. "You know, they say one of the best ways to treat hypothermia is uh…body heat. Think I saw a little room back there, we could work up a sweat." He grinned rakishly. That snapped her out of her haze. Dark green eyes spit sparks. Dean chuckled. "Or coffee…you know…either way."

Parker couldn't help herself, she smiled. "Think we'll stick with coffee," she said dryly, nodding. Dean rose agreeably, pulling Parker to her feet after him. He'd seen a sign for a cafeteria on their way in. He led her down the hall. Parker looked up at him wryly. "You don't fool me for a minute," she told him. "You go all, over protective, big brother when you're worried…"

Dean sniffed, shrugging inside his leather coat. "Yeah…well…keep it to yourself huh?"

--

Two hours later found Dean and Parker seated inside Sam's room. Parker was curled up in a chair like some sort of overgrown house cat, floating restlessly between sleep and consciousness. Dean flipped idly through a magazine, slouched in another chair beside Sam's bed. He felt better being near Sam, where he could see him, and where the heart monitor attached to his chest kept beeping in a nice steady, reassuring rhythm. He gazed shrewdly at one column. Hmm, maybe a nice M. Night. Shyamalan, Lady in the Water type reference when Sam finally woke up, he mused, that could work.

The clock that hung just above the door read just after one AM. Dean heard chair legs scrape on linoleum. Parker moved to stand at the bed beside him. "Look Dean, I can't stay here. I know why you have to, but I can't."

Dean set the magazine in his lap. She wasn't going anywhere by herself if he had anything to say about it. She was exhausted, despite the two and a half cups of black coffee she'd downed in the cafeteria. "I said I'd go back with you and I will. Just as soon as Sam wakes up."

"That could take hours and you know it," Parker said tiredly. She didn't want to argue with him. She just wanted to go find her sister.

"Oh, so you two are arguing…how novel," a weary, raspy voice interrupted from behind them. Dean's face lit up as he turned. Sam managed a small grin. He pressed his hands into the bed to sit himself up and immediately regretted the action as it strained his newly sutured shoulders. He grimaced, "Tell me you killed that fuckin thing."

"Well, actually I was too busy jumpin in the water to save your ass, but Parker turned out to be pretty decent with the shotgun."

"That works." Sam sighed and shut his eyes, relaxing into the pillow. "That thing was definitely NOT in dad's journal." He paused for a second, then asked. "Did you get Angie?"

Dean nodded his head at the door, which Parker was inching her way towards. "We're heading back up for her now."

"You _left _her there?"

Dean threw up his hands, exasperated. "You were gonna die Sam. The situation didn't exactly lend itself to options. We're going back, while you get to lounge in comfort."

Sam snorted. "Fine, fine. Hey Dean, you wouldn't happen to have the lap top with you, would you?"

"Yeah, it's still in the back of the Jeep."

"Grab it for me before you go. I want to do some digging, maybe find out what that thing was."

"You have a real problem relaxing, know that Sammy?" The younger Winchester shot him a dark look. "Whatever, research mode it is. I'll be right back."

Parker stood at the door, her hand on the knob. "I'm glad you're okay Sam," she told him with a tight smile. Then she pulled the hood back up her head, and headed out.

--

The sun had just risen, bathing the thinning mountain trees in a dim orange light , when Dean and Parker arrived back at the base of the Crystal Lake Cavern entrance. They scrambled up the rocks again, a task made easier this time, with the absence of Dean and Sam's small armory.

Parker was just about to shrug off her pack, when Dean's cell phone rang. They exchanged a surprised look. "It never ceases to amaze, the random facts Sam can't help but share," Dean joked, drawing the phone out of the side pocket of his pack.

"Forget random facts, I'm amazed the call came through." Parker peered curiously around his arm. "Who's your carrier?"

Dean flipped open the cell phone. "Hello?" The phone connection had come through, but it was weak. He could barely hear Sam above the static. "What?" He covered one ear with his hand. "Sam I can barely hear you…"

Parker could hear the static, and every now and then Sam's voice. "Dean….Dean….demon…."

"Yeah Sam, I coulda guessed. Can't this wait? You're breaking up."

The connection was getting worse. "…o..o… dem… Iranian…."

Parker's feet cemented themselves to the rock. The blood drained from her face. She grabbed Dean's arm, but he shook her off distractedly, still trying to hear Sam. "Where did he say that thing was from? Dean?" Three clear words came through the phone just before it died, and beside him, Parker's voice echoed the news. "It's not dead."

--

Chapter 6

Okay, I realize there is a need for mild suspension of disbelief here, what with Dean's phone actually working and all, but bear with me.

Please review, please?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

A/N: Just want to give a shout out to all the great reviewers out there that have taken the time to write a little blurb, thank you, you rock! On a side note, I had already written this, but my computer decided to eat the file, so sorry for the delay.

Disclaimer: Parker I own, the boys, sadly, I do not.

(--)

Dean snapped the phone shut, a sinking feeling in his gut. "What do you mean it's not dead?" he asked, turning slowly. "What do you know about…" his voice trailed off. There, behind a thick stand of fir trees, the creature rose and Dean got his first good look at it. Parker watched the white's of his eyes grow larger.

It had the legs, torso and arms of a human. Blood red eyes stared down at them, the pupils dark slits. There were a spider's chelicera and fangs where the mouth should have bee. Greasy dark hair covered its head. Long, thick talon like protrusion replaced fingers and Dean couldn't help but take note of the dried blood staining each claw. It was naked, save for a few narrow strips of animal hide across its hips. A double set of fly-type wings protruded out of its shoulders.

Suddenly it stopped hovering, dropping altitude and streaking toward them. Dean made a desperate grab for the straps of Parker's pack and heaved himself backward, pulling her on top of him. She landed with a grunt, sprawled over his chest as the creature flew overhead. It soared past them around the mountainside its wings sending a blast of putrid air into Dean's face..

Parker lifted her head slowly. "Thanks," she breathed.

Dean grinned wolfishly. "Anytime," he drawled. It was only then Parker noticed their somewhat awkward position, an entanglement of bodies and limbs, her hands on either side of his shoulders and one of her legs tucked almost intimately between his.

Parker pushed herself up to better look in his eyes. She shot him a withering glare. "You are _such_ a guy."

Dean chuckled. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

She rolled her eyes and reached up to flick him hard in the center of his forehead. "We do not have time for this."

Dean shrugged from his position on the rocks. True, an errant rock had lodged its way beneath his shoulder blade, but he could think of worse places to be. "Oh darlin', there's always time for…" The creature's loud, eardrum-shattering shriek halted him mid sentence. It was headed back. "Or not," he corrected himself. "Let's go."

Parker obediently rolled off him, and Dean sprang to his feet. They both scrambled up and headed down the trail, Dean pushing at parker's back.. The two half ran, half slid down, loose dirt and shale cascading around their feet like a miniature avalanche. The hit the hard pack together and took off, sprinting across 200 hundred or so open yards that lay before the relative safety of the trees.

Parker risked a glance behind her when she heard another cry. The creature had flown back around the hillside, flying low and parallel to the ground like some kind of warped version of a heat seeking missile. She pushed herself faster. "What's the plan?" she called out.

Dean hurdled a small pile of rocks. His legs pumped like pistons, but the trees didn't seem to be getting closer, at least, not fast enough. The creature was gaining, fast. "Right now the plan is to not die!" he yelled back. "Does that work for you?"

"Definitely, definitely works."

Dean looked over his shoulder. It was nearly on top of them. "Hit the deck!" Dean threw himself to the ground. Just behind him Parker did the same. The ground bit at his hands and knees. The monster swept over them, its hands closing on air. Dean pushed himself up immediately. Only a few yards past them, the creature's wings had brought it to a stop, and it turned, hissing evilly. Dean went to Parker and hauled her to her feet with surprising ease.

They didn't get ten feet before it was on top of them again. They dove for the ground again, pressing their bodies flat, but this time the creature wasn't fooled. It flew even lower, its claws dragging in the earth. One clawed hand ripped across the back of Dean's calf. The other hand managed to snag Parker's pack. She felt a tug beneath her armpits just before she found herself hurtling forward. It was dragging her. She grabbed wildly at the ground, at the straps of her pack and blindly behind her head, but it was no use. Rock bit at her hands and knees and dirt cemented her teeth.

"Parker!" Dean shot after them like a sprinter out of the blocks.

The creature dragged her a few yards before beginning its ascent. Parker was in a full-blown panic. It was going to fly up and then drop her onto the rocks, she was sure of it. Just as the tip of her boots hovered a foot or two above the ground Dean reached them. He threw himself at them, wrapping his arms around Parker's hips. Their rise slowed dramatically. The monster turned its head to look at Dean, its fangs clicking together. Then it howled and brought a foot down across the bridge of his nose. Tears stung his eyes and he tasted blood, but Dean didn't let go.

Meanwhile, Parker searched desperately for anything she might use against it. She'd nearly given up when her hand brushed something metal. The hammer and pick she always kept on her harness, she'd forgotten it. She fumbled a little with the strap, but brandished the tool triumphantly after a moment. Then she twisted, whipping her shoulders around. She drove the pick handle deep in the creature's arm just below the elbow. Screeching, it released its hold on her pack, but not before swiping at her forearm. She and Dean crashed to the ground from five or six feet up. The landing was bone jarring, but far preferable to other options. The creature remained floating above them for a long moment, hissing and spitting before it flew away and vanished again.

Dean and Parker, by mutual unspoken agreement, headed back for the cabin. They needed to rearm, restrategize, and take a rest. Dean limped, the blood that pooled in his boot squishing with each step. Parker walked just behind him, cradling her injured arm close to her. He didn't look at her once, didn't say a word. He had questions, and was going to expect her to provide some answers. Parker just wished she knew what to tell him.

(--)

Dean and Parker sat across from one another at the small table at the Quinn cabin. Iodine soaked wads of sterile gauze littered the space between them, along with two now empty bandage wrappers. They'd already finished patching up Dean's leg, and he was putting the finishing touches on her arm. Parker was trying not to look at the blood.

"Some of those could use stitches," he told her brusquely as he taped off the wrap. Already small pinpricks of blood seeped up through the bandage. Those were the first words he'd spoken in more than an hour.

She gingerly rolled her sleeve back down. "I'd prefer not to get arrested again, thanks." She leaned back in her chair. God this was uncomfortable. She preferred sarcastic Dean, hell, she preferred angry, yelling Dean, to the quiet, angrily brooding man in front of her.

Dean stood abruptly, his chair scraping on the floor, and began to pace. With the threat of imminent peril behind him, his head was starting to work overtime. His temper was up. Hell, if she were a guy he would have decked her already. He forced himself to stop and rested his hands on the back of his chair. Parker watched the blood drain from his knuckles. "So what exactly do you know about this thing that you didn't bother telling us?"

Parker sighed and said wearily, "Its name is Akvan. It's a mythical demon out of Iranian folklore." She ran a hand over her face and felt dirt and sweat beneath her fingertips. She needed a shower.

"Why didn't you tell us this before?"

"I didn't think of it till Sam told you it had Iranian origins. I didn't even remember it. It was so long ago Dean. I was a kid, and I thought it was just a story meant to scare me and my sister."

Dean's scowl deepened. "You'd be surprised how often stories have a way of coming true. So what else? How do we fight it? How do we kill it?"

"I don't know."

"Think."

"I don't remember!"

"Well that's not good enough Parker," Dean barked. "Sam nearly died up there. We nearly died, so you'll have to excuse the fact that I'm a little short on the warm and fuzzy understanding. So stop yankin' my chain and tell me what you know."

Parker threw her hands up. "I don't remember," she repeated. "But I know someone who can tell you the whole story." She stood and headed for the door.

"And who's that?" Dean asked as he followed.

"The person who told me the story in the first place." Parker felt ill. "My mother."

(--)

Chapter 7

Short chapter I realize, but it felt like a good place to leave off. Kicking myself as I realize I sort of wrote myself into a corner with Sam, but oh well…I'll draw him back in I swear.

Much love to all those lovely people who encourage me and prompt the process along…aka the reviewer. Thanks in advance.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

A/N: This has been fun. It's been a while since I've felt really inspired to write fanfiction, but Supernatural has pulled me back in. Hope you've enjoyed reading thus far as much as I've enjoyed writing.

Disclaimer: Own them…in my dreams.

(--)

Sam called Dean's phone again as they were driving back down the mountain for the second time in as many days. Dean answered, leaving Parker to stare morosely out the window, her chin cupped in her hand. She felt the hot sting of tears at her eyes. Angie. The Jeep hit a deep rut, and Parker's stomach lurched dangerously. Dean was right. They needed answers to know how to fight the Akvan, but a deep seeded doubt in her gut told her she really didn't want to know.

"Hey," Sam sounded breathless. "You guys all right? I've been trying your cell for over an hour now."

"Yeah Sammy, we're fine. We just had another little run in with our friend the Akvan." His voice was hard, and Parker just wanted the seat to swallow her. She could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough. The line went quiet for a long moment. Dean switched the phone from his right hand to his left, and down shifted the Jeep into third gear. "Sam?"

"Dean, I didn't get a chance to tell you its name before the signal cut out. How did you know?"

Parker could feel Dean's eyes rake over her. She grimaced and closed her eyes. Yep, definitely wished the seat would swallow her, or that she was invisible. Yeah, invisible would work too. "I'll explain when we get to the hospital… yeah, we're coming to get you. See you in a couple hours."

They traded the Jeep for the Impala at the base of the logging road. The last time they'd driven down, Dean hadn't spared a thought to the fact that there was probably a police report out on the stolen vehicle. Frankly, he hadn't cared. Getting Sam medical attention had seemed far more important to him in the moment, but now, he could afford to be a little more cautious.

As soon as they had traded vehicles, Dean had started rooting through his massive cassette selection. He slid in a tape and cranked the stereo, and booming guitar riffs filled the car, precluding any conversation. The drive to Walden seemed to stretch on forever.

Some hours later, Sam emerged out the front doors of the Walden Emergent Care Center under his own power. Dean walked out beside him, having delivered his brother fresh clothes and a loose button down plaid shirt to put on over his bandages and stitched shoulders. Sam walked stiffly, and a dark bruise had formed beneath the butterfly bandage on his head. According to Sam, Doctor Paulson had been less than thrilled with the idea of Sam checking himself out so soon after being admitted. But Sam was an adult, and after filing the proper forms and release waivers they'd had no choice but to release him.

Parker slid wordlessly into the back seat and Sam clambered into the front. Dean shut the door and trotted around to the driver's side. Sam nodded a hello to Parker, who barely acknowledged the gesture. "All right Sammy, what do we know?"

"Not much," Sam said, flipping open the laptop. "The Akvan is an Iranian demon, from the Zoroastrian religion. When the demon is summoned it possesses the nearest able bodied man and basically mutates. It's said to live in caves, or up in the mountains. All reports I could find said it settled above a village and would take young women that wandered too close to its cave. Anyone who tried to rescue them was killed. According to one website the Akvan wanted girls to "marry" it…" Sam wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'm assuming that's a rather loose translation. Unfortunately, nothing I found tells of how to summon it, or how to kill it."

He paused, waiting for some response, but he didn't get one. Sam looked between Dean and Parker. Dean stared purposefully out the front window, not once glancing back. Parker gazed blankly out the window. They weren't bickering. "All right," Sam said, "someone feel like telling me exactly what's going on?"

(--)

"Yeah, that's it, the blue house on the left," Parker said, hunched down in the back seat fifteen minutes later. They'd already cruised down the street Parker's mother lived on once, a precaution Parker's fugitive status made necessary. Not that Mrs. Quinn exactly lived in a suburban jungle that would make a waiting undercover officer hard to spot. Each house had several acres between it and its nearest neighbor, and most often dense forest surrounded each parcel of land.

Sam thought the fact there was no police presence was telling. "You and your mom not all that close?"

Dean drew the Impala to the side of the road, letting it idle for a moment before cutting the engine. "No," Parker responded dully. "We had kind of a falling out when I decided to become a guide. She always blamed climbing for my dad's death."

Sam climbed out and Parker followed. They trooped up the stone walkway in a tight pack, Sam and Dean flanking Parker on either side. At the front door she paused, her hand poised over the doorbell. Biting back another wave of apprehension, she pushed it.

It didn't take long for Mrs. Quinn to come to the door. She looked a lot like a much shorter version of Parker, though her eyes were a deep brown and her complexion was a few shades darker. The petite, dark haired woman's expression morphed dramatically from bored and relaxed to wide eyed and stunned. "Parker?" she whispered disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Yeah ma, it's me, beneath this layer of crap anyway." The tiny woman remained rooted to her place in the doorway, her lips slightly parted. "You plannin' on inviting us in, or you gonna slam the door in my face?"

Mrs. Quinn stepped aside, allowing just enough room for Parker, Sam and Dean to enter her house. She eyed the brothers warily as they stepped across the threshold. They heard the door shut behind them, and the quick, soft padding of feet on hardwood. Completely ignoring Sam and Dean, Mrs. Quinn marched up to stand toe to toe with her daughter. Her wide eyed wonderment had been replaced by a deep, ugly frown. She placed her hands on her hips and began to yell in a rapid fire language neither brother recognized.

"Ma," Parker tried to interject. Mrs. Quinn ignored her, rattling on and on, hands flying wildly. "Ma," she tried again. It didn't work. The woman's tirade got louder, and if possible, came faster. Parker pinched the bridge of her nose with her left hand. "Ma, speak English. Don't be rude."

A loud, resounding smack could be heard when Mrs. Quinn hit her daughter's face with an open palmed slap. Parker's head snapped around. Sam's eyes went wide and he heard Dean grunt beside him. Parker lifted a hand to her face, craned her neck and flexed her jaw slowly from side to side. Her reaction was far too measured for Sam to think it an isolated occurrence. "Don't talk back to me," Mrs. Quinn snapped in heavily accented English. "I'm your mother."

"Are you done now?" Parker asked blandly.

The small act of defiance was enough to make Mrs. Quinn's face go beet red. "How could you let something happen to your sister? What were you thinking? I told you, I told you a hundred times what you do is dangerous. Look what happened to your father!" Sam watched Parker stiffen. Mrs. Quinn followed it up with a string of half-coherent English, "Arrested! Murder! Escape!" She made a disgusted noise deep in her throat and threw her hands in the air. Dean wasn't sure if the woman was going to break out in tears or slap Parker again. In any event, the situation was distinctly uncomfortable.

It was no less so when Mrs. Quinn finally acknowledged that the brothers were in the room as well. She thrust a bony finger toward Sam's chest. "And who are they?" Dean gulped. Ghosts he could handle. Demonic possessions, well, there was usually an exorcism ritual. A loud mouthed spitfire of a 5'2" pissed off Iranian woman he wasn't so sure.

"Uh…" Sam and Dean said together.

"They're friends mom. They're gonna help find Angie. That's Sam, and that's Dean."

"The police have already been looking for your sister. They not find her, so what makes you think you can?"

"The faith in me you have is astounding," Parker responded dryly.

Sam finally found his voice and came to Parker's proverbial rescue. "Because we believe the police are looking in the wrong place." Mrs. Quinn's lips thinned and she eyed Sam doubtfully.

"Mrs. Quinn, it's kinda a long story, so why don't we go sit down?" Dean suggested. "In fact, you may be able to help us out, but we're going to need to ask you a few questions."

"All right," Mrs. Quinn answered after a long pause. "We talk. But first I make coffee and you all clean up." Dark eyes flicked to her daughter. "Especially you. You know, you could be so pretty, but you no try, ever."

"Oh my God," Parker muttered quietly, exasperated. She spun on her heel and headed for the nearest bathroom and escape, leaving the brothers standing awkwardly in the foyer. It was no man's land.

Ten minutes later and a mug of steaming, black coffee in their hands they all sat down in the Quinn's well decorated, mostly beige living room. Dean almost felt bad sitting on the couch. He was probably going to leave a stain. "So how you think I help?" Mrs. Quinn questioned the brothers. "I not there. I not the one who make mistake."

Dean ignored the barb. He was aiming for the direct approach. He didn't feel much like becoming embroiled in what was sure to turn into a lengthy argument between family members. "What do you know about a demon named Akvan?"

The silence was penetrated by the heavy thunk of Mrs. Quinn's mug on the coffee table. She withdrew her hands into her lap and started rubbing thumb and forefinger over her palm nervously. "Akvan is demon from my home, from Iran. He kidnap foolish girls. Prideful girls. He wish to… to... love them, but if they no want him, he kills them. Every full moon, he let girls go, but if they run, he kills." Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, knowing what the other was thinking. The full moon was the day after tomorrow. They'd just been given a deadline.

"Mrs. Quinn," Dean began seriously, leaning forward to set his forearms on his knees. "Do you know what it takes to kill Akvan?"

Brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You can no kill Akvan." Perfect, just what they didn't want to hear.

"There has to be a way," Sam pressed.

Mrs. Quinn's tongue darted out over her lips. "Why do you ask me about old story?"

Parker sighed, reaching over to grab her mother's wrist. "Mom, it's not a story. It's real. It attacked us in the caves. Akvan has Angie." She watched her mother's face, waiting for the information to sink in. Mrs. Quinn's face drained of all color, and she started to shake.

She shook her head. "No." She closed her eyes, rocking slowly back and forth on the couch. "It not possible."

"Ma I know it's hard to believe but…"

"Not again." Mrs. Quinn's words hit Parker like a blow to the gut. Her hand slipped from Mrs. Quinn's wrist.

"What do you mean, not again?" Dean asked. His heart quickened. They were finally getting near some answers. If she had seen the demon before, perhaps she knew how to stop it. Obviously something had, or reports of missing women and search parties would have found their way into their father's journal, he was sure.

Tears flowed freely down Mrs. Quinn's face. "I hoped you would never know," she told her daughter quietly. Parker blinked. "Eight years ago…" she began. Blood rushed into Parker's ears and the room started to list in front of her eyes. It was hard to breathe. "Your father was having an affair." Mrs. Quinn reached out for her daughter's hands, but Parker pulled back.

"I'm not hearing this," Parker murmured. Dean and Sam exchanged a look. They knew where the story was headed.

Mrs. Quinn buried her face in her hands. "I was angry! I didn't think, didn't know what would happen to him. I never thought he love her enough to go after her…." The admission seemed to break her and her shoulders heaved as she broke down in wailing sobs.

Parker stood, backing out of the room, a blank expression on her face. Dean followed. She made it through the sliding glass door on the far side of the living room and out onto the back porch before her stomach retaliated, and she dumped its meager contents over the railing. Her mind was reeling.

"Hey," Dean said softly, running a hand through his hair as he searched for something to say. Why hadn't he made Sam come out here? He was better at this kind of thing. She had her back to him, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping her on her feet. "Look, I know how hard this is," he began.

Parker whirled on him. "You know?" she seethed. "What do you know about it? That thing didn't kill your father! That thing out there didn't destroy your life! So what the hell do you know about it?" she screamed at him.

Dean pursed his lips and put his hands up. "Forget it," he snapped. He turned and stalked inside, brushing past Sam who had heard the entire exchange. The younger Winchester brother winced when the Quinn's front door slammed shut. Parker had just put her foot in her mouth in a big way, even if she didn't know it. He walked cautiously out onto the patio, where Parker had taken a heavy seat on the stairs.

Sam gave a little sigh and moved to sit beside her. She had her hands clasped between her knees, her elbows resting on her thighs. She sniffed once, swiping at her eyes with the back of one hand. "Sam, you ever have a day when your life, and everything you thought you knew about it, just fell apart on you?"

Sam recalled that day, months earlier, when Dean had dropped him off outside his apartment. A small, ironic smile played across his lips. "Yeah, I have. Pretty sure Dean's had a couple." He waited for a moment, then continued. "Our mother was killed by a demon when I was six months old." Parker looked up at him.

She closed her eyes as if pained and dropped her head between her legs. "I'm a jerk," she said, her response muffled.

"You didn't know," he told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Doesn't make me any less of a jerk." She lifted her head. "Stuck my foot down my throat with that one huh?"

"Eh," he shrugged, and then immediately regretted the small action. His pain killers were wearing off. "A bit, yeah."

Parker sighed. "Give me another minute to swallow my pride and I'll go apologize to Dean."

"Good luck with that. Don't expect much of a reaction."

"I don't." They lapsed into silence.

"You need to talk to her too," Sam said finally.

"I can't."

"She made a mistake."

Parker grunted. "Sam, that's like saying Hurricane Katrina dropped a little rain." Sam nodded; she had a point. "I can't talk to her, not yet. I'm gonna go for a walk. Please, just find out how to kill this Akvan so we can get Angie back? Please?"

Sam nodded again. "Yeah, sure." She smiled at him tightly, rose. And headed for the forest behind the house. It was nearing twilight, and the sky was swathed in orange and pink. The forest was dark, but Parker didn't care. She'd grown up here after all. Sam watched her till he could no longer see her and then went back inside.

Dean was already back, sitting on the coffee table across from Mrs. Quinn. He looked up at Sam briefly as he entered. The sting Sam had seen in his brother's face at Parker's accusation was already gone. Sam shook his head. Dean's ability to shelve his emotions would never cease to amaze him. Sam went to stand beside the couch. From what he could tell Dean hadn't made much progress; Mrs. Quinn was still hysterical.

Parker wandered slowly through the trees on the narrow deer path that led between the Quinn land, and the neighbors mountain pasture. She ducked underneath a low hanging branch. Then, on her left, she heard something moving in the brush. She stopped, an irrational surge of fear coursing through her. It was probably nothing, a rabbit, or possibly a coyote. Still, she peered into the wood off the trail, curious.

Something crashed through the underbrush on her other side, and she whirled. All she saw was a pair of gleaming red eyes, and then she saw nothing at all. Back at the house Dean, Sam and Mrs. Quinn all leapt to their feet when they heard a scream.

(--)

Chapter 8

Okay, so it's looking like one more chapter, maybe two if my mind starts working overtime. Please review, helps keep the plot bunnies bouncing. Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

A/N: Winding close to the end here people. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, I have. I decided the boys needed to be on their own again for a while, doing what they do best…getting into trouble.

Disclaimer: If I owned them I'd probably be selfish and not share.

(--)

Sam and Dean bolted from their seats the moment the scream reached their ears. Mrs. Quinn wasn't far behind. The brother's bolted out the back door, leaping over the stairs onto the lawn and darting for the woods. Dean dropped out of his sprint less than ten yards in. Night was rapidly approaching, and the forest was already dark. His head whipped back and forth. "Where'd it come from?"

Sam squinted. "I don't know."

"Parker!" Sam and Dean yelled together. No answer came. "Parker!" Silence.

Then Mrs. Quinn caught up to them. "This way," she panted. "The deer trail," she pointed to a narrow, worn path cutting between the trees, "there." Sam saw it first, and set off at a fast trot. He had to be careful if he didn't want to overrun any clues.

Luckily for the brothers, the signs of a struggle weren't hard to spot. The grass had been tramped down, and leaves and broken branches littered the ground. There was no sign of Parker. Dean kneeled and flipped open his cell phone, the only source of light they had. His scowl deepened. "Hey Sammy, get over here."

Dean pressed his fingers onto the ground. They came away wet, and warm. He rubbed his fingers together and sniffed. He held his hand up for Sam to do the same. "Smell like blood to you?"

"Yep," Sam responded grimly. The dark liquid had a distinct metallic scent. He'd smelled it enough in the last few months to recognize it instantly. "Think it's Parker's, or the Demon?" he kept his voice low so Mrs. Quinn wouldn't hear.

"Parker," Dean said calmly. "Out here, not expecting it and no weapon… I can't see her getting a decent piece of that thing. Question in my mind has to be, is she alive, or dead?"

"So what do we tell her mother?"

"The truth," Dean shrugged, "and just hope it prompts her to give us some answers."

The brothers led a dazed, confused Mrs. Quinn back to her house. The small woman shook like a leaf, even as she sat down on her couch. Sam quickly took her coffee and zapped it in the microwave before returning the steaming mug. Mrs. Quinn took it wordlessly, and some of the dark liquid spilled onto her leg. "Parker, it has my Parker too?"

"Looks that way," Sam confirmed.

"Mrs. Quinn, you said you couldn't believe this was happening again," Dean pressed. "Does that mean you got rid of it the first time?"

"Yes."

"But how did you do that if you can't kill it?" Sam queried.

"You can not kill the spirit that is Akvan," Dark eyes lifted, and for the first time, the brothers saw in them someone who had seen a glimpse of the dark world they lived in every day. "But you can send it back."

"How? How do we send it back? How do we fight it?" Dean locked onto her eyes, his gaze unwavering.

The woman frowned, her forehead creasing as she thought how to explain it. "Akvan's spirit not live in the body you saw, so the body not can be killed. When the demon comes to here," she made a wide arc with one arm, "demon puts spirit elsewhere. You kill the vessel of the spirit, it returns to the body you fight. Then the body can die."

"Okay," Sam said, drawing out the word. "So where is this vessel exactly?"

"And what is it?" Dean asked.

"I not know where vessel is. When I summon," she choked on the word, "I kept vessel with me. That how I got rid of the first time. But who knows where now, or if one who summon even knows."

"But what is it?" Dean asked her again. "What are we looking for?"

"Akvan vessel is goat."

"Excuse me, it's what?" Sam shook his head. His concussion was getting the better of him, or else her accent was, but he must have heard her wrong.

"Goat," Mrs. Quinn said slowly, careful to enunciate. "It's goat."

Dean sat back on the coffee table and let out a bitter laugh. "Of course it is." Stifling a pained, irritated sigh he looked back at Mrs. Quinn. "Do you have any idea who else might know about the Akvan legend?"

"No," she shook her head, "but was popular story in Iran. Most children hear it."

Fat lot of good that did them. Colorado wasn't exactly the most diverse state the brothers had ever visited. The chances of their being another Iranian immigrant who knew the Akvan legend in the vicinity of Deerville and Walden was slim he was sure. It had to be someone who knew the Quinn's, possibly even someone who knew what Mrs. Quinn had done. Akvan showing up again after nearly a decade and going after members of the woman's family was entirely too big a coincidence for Dean to believe.

The slight inclination of Dean's head toward the front door told Sam it was time to go. "Mrs. Quinn, just one more thing?"

"Yes?" she sniffed.

"Does Walden have a library?"

The question seemed to puzzle her. "No, no library. Records and archives kept in Town Hall. Opens at 9 tomorrow."

"Thank you." Sam rested a hand on her shoulder. He hated to leave her in such a state of distress, but he and Dean were working against the clock with very little information to go on. "Will you be all right by yourself?" Dean had already risen and was standing by the front door.

"Yes, yes I fine. Please, just bring my daughters back to me. Please." Sam glanced at Dean. Neither one of them had the heart to tell them that even if they found the girls alive, she'd probably already lost Parker.

Sam nodded. "We'll do our best," he assured her. Then he headed for the door. Dean went through first, and Sam shut the door behind him. Sam looked over at his brother and said what had been on his mind since the questioning had begun. "A goat? We're looking for a goat somewhere in the Rocky Mountains?"

Dea's face remained expressionless. "Baaaaahhh."

(--)

Consciousness returned to Parker slowly, painfully. Her mind first registered the quiet trickle of nearby water, and second the rough, cold ground on which she lay. She wanted to move, to open her eyes, but her body refused to obey. She felt like she was clawing at the back of her own eyes, trying to drag herself toward awareness. Her eyelids fluttered then, an act that took far more will than it should have. She would have been just as well off saving herself the effort. It was pitch black, she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. A loud, low groan escaped her lips. "Holy shit," she croaked, arching her lower back away from the rock, "that hurts."

"Parker?" The familiar voice emanated from nearby, disbelieving.

"Angie?" Ignoring the aching cry coming from every inch of her body Parker rolled onto her side and sat up.

"Don't move," the disembodied voice told her. "We're on a ledge." Angie crawled forward on her hands and knees, patting the darkness before her with her hands as she inched along.

Parker's fingers curled, scraping slowly on the rock. Less than a foot to her left her hand fell away into nothingness. Crap. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping desperately that the demon hadn't taken up residence where she thought. Her right hand closed around a small stone, about the size of a peach pit. She hefted it over the ledge and waited. She never heard it land. Double crap.

Then Angie was beside her, and Parker felt her baby sister wrap her arms around her shoulders. She wished it wasn't so dark. She wanted to see Angie's face, she wanted to look into her eyes and assure herself that this all wasn't just some pleasant nightmare. "I can't believe you're here," Angie said, the sound muffled Parker's sweatshirt. "You found me."

"Well yeah….kinda." Parker patted her sister's arm. "This isn't exactly the brilliant rescue situation I had planned."

Angie shook her head furiously, her vice like grip on Parker's shoulders never wavering. "It doesn't matter. I mean, this means everyone knows where we are."

"Everyone?"

"The rescue teams you brought back with you." Parker cringed, and was suddenly glad of the darkness. She reached up and plucked Angie's arms from around her. This was gonna take a while. Luckily, she didn't figure they were going anywhere for a while. "Yeah, about that…"

The story came out in a rush, and Parker paused for air only when absolutely necessary. She wasn't keen on rehashing the 'you're nuts' vibe she'd gotten so often over the last week and a half. She didn't go into any deep detail either, conveniently bypassing phrases that would only inspire awkward questions, like 'insane asylum' and 'dad had an affair' and 'mom did it'. No, she told Angie the Cliff Note's version of the tale, and it was enough to get the point across. There were no rescue crews, only two guys with a muscle car, sarcasm and some serious anger issues.

At the end of it all Angie was silent, absorbing, most likely. Then a loud smack radiated the darkness, as Angie's open palm hit the back of Parker's head with alarming accuracy. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You got arrested?" The barely restrained squeal in her tone made Parker cringe. Angie's voice always ratcheted up an octave or two when she got pissed. "And why in hell were you walking in the woods alone with that…that…thing, out there!" This time the palm missed the back of her head, skimming just over the top instead. Parker scooted away, not eager to let Angie try to fix her aim.

"I felt like goin for a jaunty little stroll, okay?" Parker fumed. "I didn't know the frickin' thing was coming after me. I figured it would stay up here, keep an eye on the prize, so to speak." She scooted away till she felt the wall at her back. The wall was almost comforting, familiar. "Must have pissed it off more than I thought when I shot it."

"You shot it?" Whoops, guess she'd forgotten to mention that part.

"Are you planning on repeating everything I say like it's a question?"

"You care on elaborating the point?"

"You know," Parker sighed, leaning her head back, "I really don't. You know, you're awfully testy for someone in need of rescuing."

"Oh yeah, stupendous job so far."

The two girls lapsed into silence, though Angie did come to sit beside Parker, resting her head on the older girl's shoulder. Parker wasn't sure how long they sat there, could have been a few minutes, or an hour, when a new noise reached her ears. She sat up a little straighter. "Angie?"

"yeah?"

"Did I just hear a goat?"

(--)

Sam yawned and shut another book of newspaper clippings. This was getting them nowhere, and he was tired, and his damned head didn't want to stop reminding him that he'd taken a thirty foot drop only two days earlier. The fact that Dean was sticking to doctor's orders, for once in his life, and waking Sam the concussion patient up every hour on the hour, left him exhausted. Truth be told, Dean didn't look much better. They were both on the ragged edge.

"Nothing," he announced dejectedly. "The Walden paper ran a story on the Quinn disappearance nearly every day for a month. You'd think in one of those articles they'd mention the woman's family ties. But they don't, ever. Any luck on your end?"

"Nope." Dean shelved the county clerk's record book he'd been looking through. "The woman with Quinn was named Susan Birchness. I mean, the newspaper articles told us that much."

Sam held up a yellowing piece of newspaper. On it, a pretty woman in her early thirties smiled at the camera, thumbs hooked beneath the straps of her pack. "Complete with grainy photo of the woman in question, yeah. Police found the picture up in Quinn's office. He took photos of all his clients. But nobody knew her. Only reason they even got a name was because she introduced herself to Quinn's guide friend Ross when they met up."

"Ross?" That nugget of information made Dean perk up.

"Yeah," Sam rifled through the papers in front of him. He'd written it down somewhere. "Uh…James Ross, another guide."

Dean's brow furrowed. "I saw a paper a couple days ago back in Deerville. James Ross went missing three days before Angie and Parker got attacked."

"So you think Ross…"

"Is now the man now conveniently possessed by our demon friend, yeah. This is crap Sam. The same demon, after the same family, and the only guy we might be able to get any answers from about our mystery woman is suddenly possessed? But according to all the information we've got the chic wasn't from Walden, or anywhere nearby. And I can't find anyone in county records that might have been related to her either."

"So then how'd she hook up with Parker's dad?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know. Papers don't mention the affair right?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope, they just say she was an out of town client of Quinn's. Search parties looked everywhere and never found them. They weren't even declared dead until a couple of years ago, till then they were just missing."

"Perfect."

"So what now?"

Dean paced. "This is a dead end. But if we don't do something soon Parker and Angie are good as dead."

"You want to go back up there." It wasn't a question.

"See any other option Sammy? We go, wait till it leaves and head in. We salt the cave entrance and take our chances there's no other way in. Then we find the girls and make a run for it, packin as much heat as we can. We might not be able to kill the son of a bitch, but it sure as hell slowed down a bit when Parker shot it."

"Pretty sketchy plan Dean."

"Well there's always Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

Dean gave a small, tight lipped grin. "We wing it." He headed for the stairs out of the County Clerk's basement.

Sam rose from his seat. "Wing it," he repeated, "and here I thought Plan B might be dumb."

"Criticize when you come up with your own damn plan. Come on."

(--)

The bell above the door of the Outdoor Outfitter's shop jangled when the brothers entered. Neither Sam nor Dean had been terribly keen on getting lost in the Deep, so they were hitting up Celeste for more supplies, a couple of cans of the glowing, biodegradable spray paint Parker had, another flashlight or two and a map of the caves if she had it. Unfortunately, the ageing shop keep wasn't in sight.

"Celeste?" Sam called, craning his neck to see over the display stands. No answer.

Dean slipped behind the counter, headed for the cracked door leading to a back room and a door that marked Celeste's tiny office. Dean rapped his knuckles against the doorframe as he pushed the door open. "Celeste? You in here?" The room was empty.

Dean's curiosity got the better of his manners. He edged his way into the room. A sagging oak desk sat in the center of the room, papers scattered across the top of its surface. A battered desktop computer took up residence in the right hand corner of the desk, and bright, neon colored sticky notes rimmed the monitor. A large topographical map of the area covered one wall. Framed pictures, both old and new were hung carefully around the rest of the office.

Dean walked around the desk to peruse the photos. A fine layer of dust covered them, but beneath the grime he could see Celeste, a much younger Celeste, smiling back at the camera, usually with another smiling figure at her side.

"Dean," Sam's voice resonated seriousness. "What are you doing? Get out of her office."

"Fine," he grumbled, and turned to leave. As he did, another photo caught his eye. This one had not been hung, but sat in a special place on a bookcase in the far corner of the room. He went toward it instead, hearing Sam grumbling at his back and following him inside. Dean used his thumb to wipe away the dust. "hey Sam, come look at this." It was a picture of Celeste, just like the others, but that wasn't what interested him. What interested Dean was the pretty woman in her mid thirties that stood beside her, Susan Birchness.

"Put that down, and turn around, nice and slow." The command was followed by the all too familiar sound of a shotgun being cocked.

Sam and Dean raised their hands and said together, "Shit."

(--)

Chapter 9

Okay, sorry this took me a while to get out, but I hope you enjoyed. As always, please review. And for any interested, Akvan is an actual demon from Iranian mytholgy. This story more or less follows what I could find about him, with a few minor changes here and there.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

A/N:

Disclaimer: I only own the ones that never appeared on TV.

(--)

"Don't do anything stupid," Celeste warned the brothers, moving to the left of the door and closing it behind her with her heel. The woman was pushing seventy and she'd gotten the drop on them, twice.

Dean cursed himself for ever letting his guard down. He knew better. He shot a glance over at Sam, who was grim faced. Sam knew better too. Hell, Sam had sensed something was off about Celeste the day they'd met her, but he'd ignored the instinct and now he and Dean were both paying for it. Stupid.

"Why'd you do it Celeste?" Dean asked. Do you have any idea what you let loose here?"

The woman paled, repositioning her grip on the shotgun. "I don't know what you're talking about," she answered stiffly.

"Sure you do. But what I'd like to know is why you summoned Akvan in the first place. Why are you trying to punish Parker and her family?" Dean gripped the picture frame and lifted it from the bookcase, dusting it off as he turned. He held the photograph out where the aging woman could see.

Sam turned as well. "Who was Susan Birchness?" Celeste's attention turned to Sam, and Dean risked a small step forward. Almost immediately the rifle was swiftly brought back to center on Dean's chest.

Her eyes, which had been wide, rimmed in white, suddenly narrowed and her expression darkened. "She was my sister," Celeste hissed through her teeth.

"You were married when you moved to Deerville," Dean said, starting to put the pieces together. "That's why no one else knew Susan Birchness was related to you. You were still going by your married name. And then Susan started an affair with Parker's father." It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"Susan came to see me when my husband died. Joseph came by to offer his condolences. I introduced them. They were friendly; she left. She visited again, the next Christmas. That's when it started. Every three months, for the next six years. She'd come here, spend a day with me, and then go to his cabin. Joseph loved her."

"Not enough to leave his wife," Dean snapped, pressing.

"But he was!" Celeste raged, accentuating with a sharp jerk of her gun. "He came in to see me, showed me the ring, told me he loved her. He went to the cabin to meet her, and they never came back!"

Sam saw tears start to track down Celeste's face. He knew what his brother was doing, pushing her buttons, distracting her. He reached behind him, carefully feeling for anything on the shelves he might use as a weapon. "But how did you figure out what happened? Searchers never found the bodies. How could you be sure Mrs. Quinn even knew?"

Celeste laughed, a bitter, harsh sound. "We were _friends_. She came to see me when Joseph disappeared. She was drunk, alternately furious and then tortured. She kept saying it was her fault. That's when she told me Joseph had told her about his affair, and that he planned to leave her. Told her the only reason he'd stayed that long was because of Parker and Angie, but that they were old enough to finally understand. That's when she told me about what she'd done. I didn't want to believe her."

"But you did," Sam said accusingly, "and you've waited all these years for revenge."

"Took me that long to find out how to summon it. It's not easy you know, finding a way to call back an ancient, mostly forgotten demon. Couldn't go right up to her and ask, now could I?"

"That thing didn't go after Mrs. Quinn," Dean told her.

"I know." Celeste's voice quavered. "I don't want to kill her; I want her to suffer."

"How many people are you willing to let it kill? Two people are dead, Angie and Parker won't be far behind." Sam said.

"I don't care," she seethed. "Susan was all the family I had and she took her from me, my baby sister. Now I'm going to take what's left of her family and I'm going to watch it tear her apart."

"You're twisted lady," Dean remarked. "And we're going to stop you."

Celeste snickered. "You two ain't gonna do shit." She edged her way to her desk, the shotgun tucked snugly into her shoulder and steadied by her right hand. Her left reached for the phone on the desk. "I found you two snooping around my office, probably lookin' for my safe. I heard you, came to investigate. Shooting you was an act of self defense, at least, that's what the police report is going to read." She picked up the receiver and began to dial.

Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye and saw his brother give the slightest of nods. There was only a few feet between Dean and the desk. It was a calculated risk, but one Dean seemed willing to take. All he needed to do was to draw Celeste's attention for a few seconds. Sam just wished he had some better cover. Celeste cradled the phone against her ear and gripped the shotgun in two hands once again. "Hello? Yes, I need to report two intruders at my…" her gaze dropped. He wasn't gong to get a better chance.

"Hey!" Sam hurled the book he'd been holding toward the desk. It sailed just past Celeste's head, striking the wall. The phone dropped away from the shop owner's ear, and the nose of the gun swung in Sam's direction. Sam dove for the floor, shielding his head with his arms. The stitches in his shoulders strained and the sound of the shotgun blast made him cringe.

The moment Celeste rounded on Sam, Dean moved. He covered the space between himself and the desk in two steps, planted his left hand on the top of the desk and hurdled it. He collided with Celeste, wedging his shoulder beneath her hands to thrust the barrel of the shotgun up and away from Sam. Celeste still managed to pull the trigger, but thankfully the only thing in her line of fire was an unlucky ceiling tile. Celeste howled angrily, her eyes spitting sparks.

"I'll take that, thank you very much," Dean said as he unceremoniously jerked the shotgun from Celeste's hands. He stood imperiously in front of her, holding the gund across his chest, his gaze flicking over his shoulder to his brother. "You can get up now Sam. I've subdued her." His tone was mocking, but Sam couldn't quite tell if it directed at him, or the situation in general. Either way, he rolled over and stood, reflexively dusting himself off. Then he hurried over to the dropped phone, where a panicked sounding woman kept repeating 'hello'. He pressed the off button and cast it aside.

"We need to get out of here Dean, now." Sam bobbed on his toes. The cops were inevitably on their way, and there was no way in hell they'd be able to talk themselves out of it.

His brother didn't move. Dean's face was a rolling thundercloud. Celeste shrank back from him. "Where's Akvan's vessel?" he growled, pressing closer to her, forcing himself into her space. Celeste squirmed.

Genuine confusion crossed her face. "What are you talking about?"

Dean lifted his shoulder away from her. "You don't know." He didn't know whether to laugh or scream. "Well that's just perfect." This whole job had gone from bad to worse. Why, why did people insist on messing with the black things in life without knowing what they were getting into? He stepped back, shaking his head, keeping the gun trained on Celeste. Sam darted into the shop, and came back with a length of rope. He bound her hands and feet, leaving her trussed up on the floor.

Dean propped the photo of Susan Birchness on the desk and quickly typed a few words onto the computer monitor. _The woman in the photo is Susan Birchness. She dissapeared 8 years ago. Aks me how I know... _It wasn't much, but maybe the cops would start asking questions.

As they made their way towards the Impala Sam asked, "We're just going to leave her? Dean, she's gonna get away with murder."

"Maybe. But what else are we gonna do Sammy?" Dean retorted, sounding anything but happy about the situation. He stowed Celeste's shotgun in the backseat. They'd lost one of theirs when Sam had fallen into the lake, so it seemed like a fair trade. "She's a human being, a demented, psycho one, but human. What did you want to do, kill her? Explain to the cops?" A quirked eyebrow accompanied the last, and Sam sighed.

"True enough. We're going back." A nod of confirmation. "Any ideas where the vessel could be?"

"Nope," Dean said with a quick shake of his head, "and we don't have time to go looking for a needle in a haystack. Moon rises at seven tonight. We're out of time."

"Wish we knew where it was."

Dean started the car and pulled out onto the road. Far away below them sirens could be heard. He pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator. "You and me both."

(--)

Parker stirred in the dark. The night had passed and so had the morning. According to the digital readout on her still working watch, it was just past one and the Akvan had left nearly an half an hour ago. Even its putrid stink had begun to fade. Beside her Angie still slept. Parker had tried to do the same, and failed, unable to slumber beneath the watchful eye of the demon, though she had feigned it. It came over to them every so often, its hot breath turning her stomach, and sending chills down her spine. She'd forced herself to stay utterly still, locking her eyes shut each time till it moved on.

_Where are they? _Dean and Sam were taking too long. What if they weren't coming? What if the Akvan had gotten to them too? Parker shook her head, banishing the thought. The full moon was set to rise in just under seven hours. They couldn't wait any longer. She shifted Angie off her shoulder, gently resting her on the ground, and stood.

As she rose Angie awoke, suddenly missing the warmth of her sister beside her. "Parker," she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, "what are you doing?" Angie couldn't see anything, but she heard Parker moving agitatedly beside her.

"This ledge," Parker said, feeling along the stone blindly, "how far down do you think we are?" She reached up, curling her fingers around the first handhold she could find.

Angie shook her head. It was crazy. "Parker…"

"How far down?" Parker repeated harshly.

Angie ran a hand over her face. She knew that tone. It meant Parker had her mind set on something, and it would take a damned mule kick before the thought became dislodged. "I don't know, fifty feet? Maybe more, maybe less." I had my Mag light on me, but the batteries died a couple days ago. Beam didn't reach the top."

"Fifty feet," Parker murmured underneath her breath.

Angie drew her feet beneath her and stood, grabbing onto her sister's arm. "Parker you can't. It's too far, and you can't see your hand in front of your face. Look, I know you're a good climber but it's crazy. You said yourself those two guys…Seth and Dan.."

"Sam and Dean."

"Right, Sam and Dean would be coming back up here for this thing. Please, Parker if you fall you'll die."

"I got news for you kid, we don't find a way out of here we're dead anyway." She couldn't see Angie's reaction, but she heard the slight gasp. "We can do it."

"I can't."

"Angie…"

"Parker I can't make that climb, not in the dark, not without gear. I'll fall."

Parker rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "I'll be back, with help or a rope. I'll come back." She bit down on her lip, not sure if she was trying to reassure Angie or herself. All the same, Parker felt gingerly along the wall with her toe till she found a small nook in the rock, reached up for her handhold and began the slow, arduous ascent up.

(--)

Sam and Dean crouched low behind some brush, watching the mouth entrance to the Deep. It was nearly 2:30 in the afternoon, and they'd been sitting there for over an hour and a half, waiting. The Akvan had made a brief appearance an hour or so earlier, but the bright sunlight had seemed to make it balk, and it receded back into the caves. Half an hour earlier dark storm clouds had rolled over the mountain. The wind had picked up, and the sky had turned a leaden gray. Sam drew the zipper up on his jacket till it stopped just beneath his chin.

Suddenly Dean cuffed him with the back of his hand. Sam swayed a little at the blow. Sometimes he wondered if Dean knew his own strength. Still, the hit drew his attention, as had been the intention and he looked up just in time to see the Akvan reemerge from the cave. It moved slowly as it walked, awkward and stooped over, obviously more comfortable in flight than on the ground. Its wings were drawn tight over its back.

Red eyes roamed the area, and Sam felt Dean pull on his sleeve. It was unnecessary; Sam was already pressed as low to the ground as he could manage. The Akvan lifted his chin, sniffing the breeze, but thankfully, with the storm, their scent was being blown away. Seeming satisfied, the Akvan gave a soft cry and unfolded its wings. It pushed off the ground, hovering for a brief moment before taking flight. It flew over the tree tops a few yards west of their hiding place.

The brothers waited another few minutes to be sure the Akvan was really gone before darting from their hiding place. They clambered quickly up the rock to the mouth of the cave, where Sam withdrew the can of rock salt from his pack. He poured a thick line of it across the cave entrance and then they ventured back into the Deep. "You know what Dean?"

"What Sam?" Dean pointed his flashlight on the walls, looking for the bright blue marks Parker's spray can had left there a few days earlier. Finally he found one and continued on, only half listening to his brother.

"I think I'm done with the Mountains for a while." Dean chuckled. "And caves," Sam went on. "And lakes, definitely done with water for a while. Trees I could do without…all your basic wildlife for that matter. I say when we're done here we look in dad's journal and find ourselves a nice haunted wheat field. How does that sound? Nice, flat, open, empty…"

"You're forgetting the coyotes."

"I can handle coyotes."

"Sam?"

"Yeah Dean?"

"You're weird." A few feet in front of him, the light from the flashlight dropped away. "And we're here." Sam came to stand beside him, peering out over the ledge that led down to Crystal lake. Sam couldn't help it, he shuddered. "Hold it together Sammy."

For Dean that passed as concern, and Sam knew it. Oddly, it made him feel better. He drew in a steadying breath, banishing images of red eyes and the sickening recollection of his free fall. "I'm fine. Let's get this done and get out of here. I don't much feel like fighting this thing on its turf again."

"No kidding, especially when hitting the damned thing head on with a twelve gauge does about as much as tickling it with a feather." The top line from a few days ago was still in its place on the wall. Dean tested the piton, then weaved the rope through his harness. Sam would have preferred to go first, but he wasn't fooling anyone into believing his shoulders would take the pressure of belaying Dean.

"Just get down quick."

"Nah, I was thinking of taking a pit stop halfway down. Relax, it'll be fine. Know what they say, lightening doesn't strike twice."

Sam grunted. "Yeah, _they_ also say Big Foot doesn't exist."

"I'll go down quick."

"Thank you."

Dean made it down the wall without incident, just like the last time. Sam hooked himself in and started down, hoping his descent would be as uneventful. Unbeknownst to either Sam or Dean, outside the Akvan had returned. Two limp rabbits hung from one clawed hand. It balked a foot away from the salt line across the entrance. It growled, a low, grumbling sound emanating from deep in its throat. Bones crunched beneath its hand and it cast away the rabbits, dinner forgotten. Turning away from the entrance, it leapt again into the air.

Dean and Sam passed over the land bridge that cut across Crystal Lake, moving quick, staying quiet. The cavern went on beyond the lake, the ceiling, which was so high over the center of the lake, sloped downward as the cavern progressed. Dean and Sam followed the curve of the cavern, their hands on the wall for guidance, lights low, wary of more unexpected drop offs. Eventually the cavern narrowed into another tunnel, twisting ever lower into the bowels of the mountain.

A few hundred yards into the tunnel Sam reached forward and grabbed Dean's shirt. Dean turned. Sam brought a finger to his lips, then tapped his ear. "Listen," he mouthed. Ahead of them the tunnel made a sharp, hairpin left. Beyond the corner Dean heard it, a soft scraping of stone, and something breathing. Silently, Dean passed the heavy flashlight to Sam, and then brought his shotgun up, clicking off the safety. It was already primed.

Parker heard something moving ahead of her in the tunnel. She stooped, searching the ground with wide hands till her fingers found a large stone. She hefted it and righted herself, trying to ignore her hammering heart. The stone she'd found was all of five pounds, but after her climb up the wall it might as well have been forty. Her fingers ached from gripping at tiny handholds and her forearm bled anew through the now thoroughly disgusting bandage. Still, she would go down fighting. She shut her eyes and began to count.

Dean locked eyes with his brother. Sam nodded tightly. "Three, two," Dean's head bobbed with each silent count, "one." They moved as a singular unit Dean at the front, Sam behind, shining the light over his shoulder.

"Ahhh!" The light was blinding after nearly a day in the black. Parker shielded her eyes with her arm, wielding her weapon awkwardly in her other hand.

The moment the light caught hold of her Dean thrust the shotgun nose down. "Whoa! Whoa!" he called, removing his hand from the trigger. In front of him Parker froze, arm still raised for a strike. "Hey, easy there Ralph Maccio, it's us."

Parker let the stone slip from her hand, and relief washed over her. "Oh thank God," she said, "for a second there I thought the Akvan had started making bad 80's pop cultural references. Now if that don't scare ya…"

Sam grinned. "Good to see you too. Our friend Akvan around?"

"Haven't seen it in a couple hours." Good, then maybe the salt line was enough. "Wasn't sure you were coming back."

"We haven't dusted this evil bastard yet," Dean said by way of explanation. "Find your sister?"

"Yeah, she's not far from here, trapped on a ledge about fifty feet down." Parker blinked spots from her eyes as she turned, heading back the way she'd just come. "How are you planning to get rid of it? My mother said it couldn't be killed."

"True," Sam conceded, "to a point." He took Parker's silence as invitation to continue. "Reason we can't kill it is because its spirit resides in another host, a vessel. Kill the vessel and the spirit returns to the body. Then we can waste it."

"Vessel?"

Dean peered down the barrel of his shotgun, keeping wary eye all around him as he moved. "In this case a wild goat." More silence and the brother's watched Parker's stride hitch for a step.

"A goat?"

"Don't ask me, I don't make the rules."

"Are you serious? That's great!" Sam lifted an eyebrow. She was altogether way too excited to get that piece of news.

"How the hell would you define that as great?" Dean asked.

"When I was down on that ledge with Angie I…I heard a goat nearby. There must be another ledge." Ahead of them the tunnel mouth opened into another cavern. This one was not nearly as high as the cavern at Crystal Lake, but it was much longer, and through its middle wove a wide, deep crevice. Sam shuffled as close to the edge as he dared and shone the beam into it. Eerie blackness stretch out beneath his eyes, well beyond the scope of the flashlight. Beside him Dean tossed a pebble down. They never heard it hit bottom. "Welcome to the Deep."

Sam shot a hard look over his shoulder. "This is where your dad…"

"Yeah."

"Parker, I'm sor…"

"If it's all the same to you Sam I'd rather not do this. Now that I know the whole story I'm sure I've got years and years of therapy in front of me to talk this out, but right now I'm not in the mood." Sam was glad she couldn't see him roll his eyes. Evasive, like that was a new one for him. He let it slide.

"So where's the goat?" Dean asked, still peering out over the edge.

"Well I didn't see it. Couldn't be more than a few yards from where we were though. Lower me down to get Angie and I'll take a look."

That elicited a laugh from Dean, till he realized she was serious. He sighed. "Fine. So not worth the argument. Go, we'll cover you from up here."

It only took a few minutes for Parker to jury-rig Dean's harness small enough to fit her. While Parker did that, Sam tied one end of the rope off to an anchor. Having a secure top rope would allow Sam and Dean to both move freely, keeping cover with their weapons. Sam handed Parker his blade, which she took with a tight lipped nod, slipping it into her pocket.

Sam and Parker were in the process of gathering the line when a pebble clattered down the wall. Instantly Dean tensed, swinging around in the direction of the sound. The feeling in the air changed. It was charged. "It's here," Dean said lowly, his eyes flicking into every nook, every shadow. "Move your ass Parker."

She nodded, the hair on her arms standing on end. She slid the line through her brake, the loose end snaking down the crevice wall. Sam stood over her, gun loaded and ready. From above there came a hiss. She moved faster, willing her hands not to tremble. Another twenty-five feet of line and she'd be good to go.

Another hiss came out of the dark, this time behind Dean. It was crawling around on the ceiling, he realized. Jerking the gun upward, the small light attached to the barrel nailed the Akvan full in the face, just before it dropped. He fired.

Dean wasn't sure if he'd hit it or not as the Akvan sailed past him, bearing down on Sam and Parker. "Sam, down!" Dean barked. Sam obeyed, a reaction borne of years experience together. He dropped, pulling Parker with him. The Akvan swooped past and Sam was on his feet, standing side by side with Dean. Parker was close behind. "Find the vessel," Dean ordered, "now."

The Akvan dropped to the ground, red eyes burning. Parker still had fifteen feet of slack line at her feet. Fuck it. Deft hands locked down the brake as she bolted away from the brothers and toward the edge. She held one of the flashlights in her left hand. Then she leapt, far enough out to avoid any protrusions, twisting in the air as she began to free fall. This was gonna hurt. The line went taut, the harness jerked painfully and she swung back toward the wall. Parker drew her knees up as she hurtled forward. She grit her teeth and crashed back into the wall feet first, her knees absorbing most of the shock. The brake strained, slipping a little before completely stopping her. Then she started to repel.

Back above, Dean and Sam were doing what they could to stop the Akvan, or at the very least, not become its next victim. In the air the Akvan was fast, but in the close confines of this cavern, it was forced down to the ground, where it was awkward and slow. Sam and Dean both lifted their shotguns. Like hitting the broad side of a barn. Sam fired first, hitting the creature square in the center of its chest. The Akvan roared, dropping to one bony knee, as dark blood oozed from the wound.

Satisfaction swiftly turned to dismay. Before their eyes the wound began to close up, blood receding back into the Akvan's body. Sam's eyes bulged and he quickly fired again. The Akvan crashed to the ground, its knee in shreds, but even that lasted only a few moments. Soon it was on its feet again, its approach steady. "The vessel Parker!" Dean yelled in no direction in particular. "Faster is better!"

Dean shouldered his way in front of Sam as his brother reloaded. The Akvan was getting closer, and Dean was well aware of the fact that they had a wall to their backs and on their left, a truly pissed off demon in front of them, and nothing but empty air to their right. This time he shot it in the head. It went down again, but not for long. It stood once more. "You've got to be kidding me," Dean muttered.

"Goat, goat, goat…" Parker repeated over and over beneath her breath. Instinct told her she was getting close. She scanned the area with the flashlight. She saw Angie, but no goat. She could hear the gunshots being fired overhead. Her throat tightened.

"Parker, what the hell is going on?" Angie yelled from the ledge a few feet away. She had her hands up to shield her eyes from the light.

"You gotta give me a minute Angie!" Parker called back. She pushed off from the wall again, sliding down her line another five or six feet. There. She saw it. On a ledge just below the one she and Angie had been trapped on, a lone goat munched idly on a large pile of picked grass. A few beaten up strands of chicken wire kept it there. Parker swung over, clearing the makeshift fencing before setting down. She withdrew the knife from her belt sheath and grimaced. This was so going to make her reconsider being a vegetarian. The goat stopped eating, watching her warily. "Sorry buddy."

Dean dropped behind Sam to reload. The Akvan was relentless. The brothers were after its prize, its women, and for that they would die. Sam prepared to fire again. But the Akvan had closed the gap between them, and it reached up, grabbing the barrel of the gun. Sam fired. The Akvan jerked, but didn't let go. Sam's stomach dropped into his feet, just before the Akvan twisted, hurtling Sam and his gun away from him. Sam landed with a grunt a few feet away, gun still in hand.

Dean abandoned trying to shoot the demon, settling instead to use the gun like a club. The Akvan swung at him with a clawed hand that Dean narrowly managed to duck. He used it to his advantage, darting beneath the Akvan's arm to the open space behind it. Now at least he had a little room to maneuver, though he was closer to the edge than he'd have liked. The demon craned its head around. Then it paused, shuddering slightly, and the glow in its eyes dimmed just a little. Parker's voice floated up to his ears. "Now!"

Dean smirked. "See how it is to fly with no wings you son of a bitch." He fired, and the shot tore through one of the creatures wings. It screamed and spun as blood spurted from the wound. It launched itself at Dean. Two gunshots rang out at once. The Akvan stiffened and toppled forward. To Sam, the next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. The demon brushed past Dean as it fell over the ledge, and he took a step back to steady himself. Sam watched the ledge crumble beneath his brother's foot. His yell was muted in his own ears. Dean pitched backward, arms flying up as he fell with Akvan into the crevice.

Chapter 10

Haha, literally a cliffhanger I know. One more after this and it's done, wow. Hope you enjoyed and please feel free to leave a review.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:

A/N: Last one here folks. I've had fun writing this story, I hope you all have had fun reading it!

Disclaimer: I haven't owned them the ten previous chapters, it's not gonna change now.

(--)

"Dean!" Sam heard himself scream it, like he was outside himself, as Dean disappeared over the ledge after the Akvan. The younger Winchester abandoned his gun and sprinted towards the edge, slowing a few feet back. Sam dropped to his knees, crawling up to the edge as near as he dared. He shone the flashlight down, peering over the ledge.

Rock. Sam swung the light over the wall slowly. Rock. He felt his breath catch. No, no, no, this could not be happening. Rock… a hand, six or seven feet down, white knuckled as it gripped a small protrusion. Relief washed over Sam. "Dean?"

"Yeah Sam."

"Dean just hang on, don't let go."

His brother's voice floated up to him, wry and un-amused. "No shit Sammy. Given the options, I'm gonna go with not falling to my death." The rock bit into his palms, but Dean resisted the urge to adjust his handhold. It was a _long_ way down. Dean had managed to grab onto a small outcropping as it unceremoniously slowed his descent into the Deep. That was going to leave a mark. Now most of his torso swung freely in space, and his face was pressed into the rock, his arms stretched out above him.

"Parker, can you get to him?" Sam called into the dark. "You'll have to swing to your right about ten feet, and then you'll be right under him."

"It's gonna take me a minute," she called back. Parker wiped her hands on her pant legs. She locked her brake down and swung off the ledge, reaching for a handhold and leaving the body of the goat behind. "Do you have a toe hold?"

"No."

"Can you get one?"

Dean kicked out with his right leg, stretching as far as he could. He swung into air. "No," he said with a grunt.

"Just hang on Dean."

"Would everyone stop telling me to hang on?" Really, what the hell else was he going to do? His fingers and shoulders were starting to burn. He was acutely aware of Parker's rope rubbing and settling beside his left hand, not that he was about to reach out and grab it. Somehow, letting go without guarantee of safety seemed…unwise. It didn't take long for Parker to reach him, spurred on by anxiety and the sort of foolish bravado the security of a top line could give her. He doubted seriously her ascent had been anything less than reckless, a fact for which he was eternally grateful.

Parker set the brake and leaned back into her harness, regarding Dean carefully from beneath. Crap, she was wearing his harness. Why couldn't life ever be easy, just once? She let the flashlight dangle freely from her wrist, rifling through the cams at her disposal. "How you doing there Dean?"

"I'm hangin off a cliff Parker, how the hell should I be?" he snapped. She ignored him.

"Good, good. Just another minute or two here and we'll have you all set." She felt along the wall till she found a deep crack, and stuck the cam into it.

"Faster is better here Parker," Dean growled.

Once set, she leaned hard against it, till she was satisfied it wasn't coming loose. Then she hooked herself to it. "Okay, so here's how we're going to play this out," she told him as she edged closer. The short lead on the cam halted her, and she felt around for another crack before sticking in another. She hooked herself into that one too. "I'm going to unhook my line…"

"You're going to what?" Dean cried out, like it was an affront to his sensibilities.

"I'm going to unhook my line and tie you in."

"Is this a good idea?" he questioned.

Parker grimaced. The cams should, _should_, hold her weight. She bit down on her lower lip. "No." All things being even, it was a very _bad_ idea, but they were short on options and it wasn't like Dean could hold on forever.

"Oh good, that makes me feel better." Parker unsnapped the rope from her harness, stretching out to slip it beneath Dean's dangling leg with her right hand. She moved slowly, gingerly removing her left from the rock face as well, feeling herself settle fully in the harness. The cams held, thank God. She passed the rope beneath his left leg, around his waist, under his left, and then back around his waist again, tying it off securely.

"Okay," she said, nodding to herself. "Let go of the wall and grab the rope."

"Let go and grab the rope, right," Dean mimicked beneath his breath. Suddenly a couple of inches seemed like a very, very long way to reach. Still, he drew a settling breath. Sometimes life just came down to a leap of faith. And then Dean let go of the wall.

A few minutes later Parker found herself being dragged over the cliff ledge by a very beleaguered looking Sam. Dean was flat on his back, taking great gulps of air. Sam stumbled backward and sat heavily beside him before he too, fell over. His shoulder had started to bleed again, but he didn't much care. Parker crawled a few feet away from the ledge before collapsing between them on her stomach.

"It's over, right?" Parker wheezed.

The brother's exchanged a glance. "Yeah," they said together.

Parker looked down at herself, her arms awash in dull red. The knees of her pants were still damp. She made a disgusted sound, "ugh I'm disgusting."

Dean cracked an eye at her and chuckled softly. "Yeah." She swatted his stomach half heartedly.

"I want a shower."

"I want a nap," Sam sighed.

"I want beer."

"Uh…guys?" A fourth voice interrupted their respective wish lists. Parker's eyes shot wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Sam and Dean both sat bolt upright. "Think you're forgetting something!!?" Sam starting laughing first, wide shoulders beginning to shake. Whoops. Dean and Parker quickly followed suit, till the three of them were in hysterics, and none of them could hear Angie's indignant cries.

(--)

It was late when the heavy double doors of Walden's only bar and restaurant swung open. Angie and Parker led the way inside, followed closely by Sam and Dean. Mostly a local spot, the entire barroom went quiet as they entered, all eyes turning to them. Parker pulled her ball cap lower on her head. The silence didn't last long, and soon all the other patrons went back about their business.

The four young people quickly found a table, and all of them sat wearily. All four of them looked slightly worse for wear, despite the fact that all four had indulged in a hot shower in the room the brother's had rented in town. Neither Sam nor Dean had felt up to making the long drive out of the high country in the dead of night. Parker had nixed the idea of going to the cops that night. She was beat, and tomorrow was early enough to clear her name. Angie had just been excited about the prospect of real food.

Angie flipped open the menu, gazing greedily at the list of greasy, delicious items available. Nachos, pub chips, jalapeño poppers… she almost drooled. While they waited for a waitress Parker excused herself, palming the cell phone Sam had leant her back at the room in her jacket pocket. The cops could wait, but their mother couldn't. She deserved to know Angie was alive, if nothing else. Still, it wasn't a conversation she needed to have in front of everyone. "I'll be right back," she announced as she stood, "ladies room." Sam looked at her knowingly. Angie barely glanced up from the menu.

Eventually Angie set the menu aside, and she and Sam picked up conversation. Dean stayed out of it, keeping an eye out for a waitress, but small nuggets of the conversation kept reaching him. "…CU Boulder for pre-law," Angie was saying.

Sam perked up a little. "Really? I was pre-law at Stamford. I've heard CU had a really great…" Where was a waitress? Finally Dean stood, the legs of his chair scraping against the wood floor.

He looked down at Sam and Angie. "Beer?" They nodded and he headed for the bar.

"And food," Angie called after him. The utter non-specificity of that order told Dean she didn't really care what he brought back; as long as it didn't involve gutting the animal herself.

Parker came back just after that, looking harried and annoyed. She paused at the table, handing Sam back his phone. "Thanks." He threw her a tight lipped smile before returning to his conversation. Her eyes flitted around the room for Dean, spotting him up by the bar. "What is he doing?"

"Beer," Angie said simply, her attention fully on Sam. Parker left them alone. Let Angie have this time. It would sink in later, this last week, losing Aiden would sink in. Then the questions would start to come, questions Parker wasn't sure she could answer, questions she wasn't sure she wanted to answer. So she'd let Angie have this night.

She headed for the bar. "He better not be ordering Coors," she grumbled lowly. The bottle in his hand confirmed her fear. Parker made a face and plucked it out of his hands as he went to take a swallow. "You're not drinking that," she informed him, and passed the bottle back to the bartender, who didn't bother hiding his grin. Dean glared. "Piss and swill, and you're in Colorado, home of the microbrew. Take advantage."

Dean turned a little to face her, leaning his elbow on the bar, an eyebrow arched into his hairline. "You took my beer."

She ignored him and told the bartender, "Two Fat Tires, one Easy and a 1554 please." The man nodded and went to get their drinks. Dean was still glaring. "Bartended through college," she shrugged, like it was some kind of explanation.

"You took my beer."

"You'll thank me, I swear." She leaned her forearms against the bar, looking back over her shoulder to where Sam and Angie still chatted.

"You gonna tell her?" Dean asked, his voice softening.

Parker bit her lip and shook her head. "No. So much had happened to her this week, I can't do that to her."

"Don't you think she deserves to know?"

"I wish I didn't know." She tore her gaze from her sister and leveled it at Dean. "I can't imagine she'd want to either. Besides, I shouldn't be the one to do it." Parker turned her attention to the cocktail napkin she was wringing in her hands, staring to tear it into tiny shreds. Ugh, she really wasn't looking forward to this. "Hey Dean, back at my mom's place…what I said…"

"Forget it," he cut her off. The bartender came back with a tray of pint glasses.

Parker snatched the darkest one, near black and smelling heavily of malt. She took a long drink. "I don't want to forget it. I just want to…"

"I said forget it," Dean reached for the tray, intent on heading back to the table and leaving the conversation behind. Parker grabbed his arm.

"Look Dean, I'm no good at swallowing my pride, and certainly no poster child for healthy social development here, so could you please just shut up and stop moving long enough for me to get this out?" It all came out in a single rushed breath. Much to her surprise Dean actually stopped. He stood, tray in hand, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Parker swallowed and released her hold on his sleeve. "Right," she said, using the moment to gather her thoughts. "When I'm wrong, I own up to it, and at my mom's earlier, I was wrong. I'm sorry. I didn't know anything about your family, and I should have just kept my mouth shut."

Dean's lips thinned a little. "Okay. You done?"

"Yeah."

Silence settled between them. The napkin was eviscerated. "Are we having a moment?" he finally asked.

"Well if we were you definitely just killed it." Silence again, and they were staring at one another. Red spots flamed on Parker's cheeks. "Beer?"

Dean cleared his throat, "beer." He nodded and swept the tray off the bar with a flourish, heading back for Sam and Angie, Parker following along in his wake.

They stayed there for another hour or so, drinking, and talking and eating. But soon after that, happily full and weary, Angie was ready to go. She scooted her chair away from the table, sighing contentedly. "Ready to go?" she asked.

Parker froze midway through downing the last of her beer. "Go?"

"Yeah, my nice soft bed at mom's sounds really good right now. I could sleep for a week." And that was exactly the sentiment Parker had been afraid of. She wasn't going back there, not that night, and quite possibly not ever again. The call to her mother, which had started out as a courtesy 'hey, we're not dead' kind of thing had rapidly devolved into a shouting match. Nope, she was not going back to her mother's.

"Really? Cause I'm totally up for another couple drinks and some pool." Parker peered hopefully over the rim of her glass at Sam and Dean, willing at least one of them to take up the offer. She felt bad, a little, Angie was spent, but she wasn't going back, period.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely Dean spoke up. "Pool sounds like a plan. If you don't mind getting your ass handed to you."

The gauntlet had been laid, and Angie let out a long suffering sigh. Parker smiled at him, grateful, and relieved and amused all at once. "I'm not much for the handing of the ass," she told him.

It was Sam who took pity on Angie, clasping her tiny shoulder in his large hand. "I'll take you home," he offered.

Angie shot a quick look at her sister, one last chance to change her mind, which Parker dutifully ignored, intent on chalking up a pool cue. The younger girl ran a hand over her face. "Okay, sure. I'll see you later Parker."

"Sure." Angie turned for the door and Parker mouthed a silent 'thank you'. Sam just nodded, and then they left. Parker turned her attention to the table, which Dean had just finished racking, glad for the distraction. God, tomorrow was going to _suck_. "Wanna make this interesting?" she asked.

"You want to _bet _me?" Dean scoffed.

"Sure," she shrugged, "I win, you buy me a beer."

"Parker, you don't have any money," he reminded her, a sly grin creeping across his face in a very cat-that-ate-the-canary type way. "What do I get when I win?"

"Well then," the smile reached her eyes, lighting and dancing as she lightly touched his shoulder. "_If _you win," she hadn't missed the dig, "then I'll _let _you buy me a beer." Smirk still firmly in place, Parker broke. Multi-colored balls whizzed about the table, and the two ball fell into the corner pocket next to Dean. It was blue, how very appropriate.

(--)

Fin

My first Supernatural fic…complete!! Please let me know what you thought.


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